


OPHIDIA

by angellssx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Ancient History, Cannibalism, Dark Character, Dark Magic, Death Rituals, Demonic Possession, Demons, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Magic, Post-Hogwarts, Rituals, Sad with a Happy Ending, Scary, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:40:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 69,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29215836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angellssx/pseuds/angellssx
Summary: Florina Cates, a newly sorted Ravenclaw with the similar struggle to that of a particular Slytherin boy, and who's impulses which had let to the release of the darkest unknown after seeking for knowledge. The obstinacy of her mind guides her through the hallucinations to conceal herself from cryptic secrecy, and the binds of an ancient curse.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE note that I have aged the characters up by one year. So the first years would start when they are 12/13 and so on. Fifth years = 16/17, sixth years = 17/18, seventh years = 18/19.
> 
> Also italics = flashbacks.

**THE TINGED RAYS OF GOLDEN HONEY** had glinted a spec of radiant warmth that had projected against the younger girl's fleshing skin. She would usually ride muggle bicycles with a childhood friend of hers, Cedric Diggory.

But not this time — this time she would be resting his bicycle against a paling that stood high on top of blossomed periwinkle tulips. A memorial the girl had made for him.

For his death.

She would reminisce of the times they would discover the old woodlands of Rosewood, hand in hand. Usually pretending that they were in a childish relationship— although, they were eight when they thought about that idea.

However, she wanted that idea to become her reality. A reality when she had dated Cedric.

The two pigeon birds had been inseparable since she was five and he was seven, and despite her stealing her older brother's friend away from him.

Unfortunately, the spring of 1994 was the last they had ever seen of each other, remembering the cold feeling she had felt when they departed ways. But nowadays, spring would hit Flora like clattering damage of shattering glass against the fragile tenderness of her skin and splintering through, into the heart.

Flora would sit on a rough hill next to her home, scattering wilted petals of canary sunflowers and lavender orchids around the memorial she made. It had commemorated her love and sheer happiness he brought her.

"This is for you my Ced."

Her older brother Eros hated the way that his younger sister could lure his friends away from him because she was a girl. A girl attracting the vulnerable heart of boys.

Especially, a boy whom she had dated during the year of 1994. Dead during the wintering holidays. Frost burying the outskirts of his pale flesh and flashing a significance of purple and blue hues over his body. A boy named Hunter Laurent.

It was a misfortune for her to tangle herself with boys — a bloody curse from the depths of hell, here to fuck with her mind.

Her mother, Odelia Quinn was raised in a muggle environment, living with her muggle parents until she had received a special parchment in the mail. A tea-stained letter that was addressed to her thirty years ago — one that would change her views of magic.

She was a proud Ravenclaw Muggle-born girl with a desire to achieve utter greatness. The greatness of love and desire for one person — Nicholas Cates.

Nicholas Cates was a French Pure-blood wizard who was wrongfully taught of Pure-blood supremacy and was raised to favour and worship the Dark Lord. But, he couldn't enter the challenge of joining the darkness. He was trapped in longing darkness for so long that Odelia Quinn had been a lustre of light — his light.

He became rather fond of her during his seventh year and her sixth year at Hogwarts. A Slytherin Head Boy of his time and she was a sixth year Ravenclaw prefect. It ripped a patch against his family when they found that he was marrying a Muggle-Born witch.

Disowned him to sacrifice their son to Voldemort for his forgiveness. Almost a success before he had merely escaped from the clutches of hell.

Nicholas and Odelia Cates would deliver three children to the cruel world — a falling world of prejudice. Eros Nicholas Cates had been birthed first, a year later was followed by Florina Faye Cates, and then the youngest, Melia Aurélie Cates.

However, only three of the Cates siblings were still here and well.

"Flora... I just thought if you wanted to continue with the school transfer. From Beauxbatons to Hogwarts," Odelia Cates carefully placed a tea-stained piece of parchment onto her daughter's hand. A sentimental feeling came over her as she touched the letter.

Flora studied the neatly printed writing while reminiscing about all the amazing stories Cedric had told her about Hogwarts, "I think Ced would've wanted me to experience Hogwarts the way he wanted," a faint smile crept onto her face as she slid the parchment back towards her mother. 

"Excellent, I'll let Professor Dumbledore know!"

"Mother... is it possible that Vold- uhh You Know Who has returned. I mean Cedric didn't," she paused as she struggled to continue without getting tearful, "die for no reason."

"Yes, it is possible and if that Potter boy did see him then we aren't safe. So it is best if you continued your studies at Hogwarts, under the protection of Albus Dumbledore," Odelia divulged, making the young brunette girl nod in agreement, "Oh and if you ever get lost in the castle, make sure you ask your brother for help." 

Oh if only the students in Hogwarts knew why she had transferred from the French school of magic to a boarding one in Scotland.


	2. 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

**EMERALD HUES MIXED WITHIN** the forest green had contrasted against the darkened walls. A flash of devastation and anguish had prompted her to break free.

 _No use_. No use of leaving when you were outnumbered to kill.

Piercing screams had infused the murderous atmosphere from the deafening silence of pain —pain of wanting to be dead.

To be killed. It would've been a miracle to die rather than live with the guilt.

Being held against her will as she vigorously watched them being tortured mercilessly — a sharpened blade to your throat was enough to make you squirm.

However, her head was stiff, and she was unable to keep her eyes focused on the brutal scene — despite the older man keeping her head straight to the tortured body.

Unforgivable to observe.

The clacks of the knives had protracted from the hands of the woman, thundering against the tiling floors.

 _Gone_.

_Blood splattered near her bare feet._

There was now rushes of blood, broadening the pools of deep carmine — drying steadily and healing from a bloody murder.   
  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  
  


**SEPTEMBER 1st, 1995**

The Kings Cross Station of platform nine and three-quarters had pervaded with extracts of coal seeping throughout the station as students boarded the Hogwarts Express. Florina struggled to keep up with her older brother as she had swiftly transferred from the dirtied ledge, and into the train.

Eros Cates had faded from her sight. His tall figure had evaporated as if he were a drop of dew on fiery metal. Her huffs amplified with every struggling movement on finding a free compartment — he wasn't any use, like always.

The girl peeked around, however, her surroundings had been decorated with the warmth of passing students scurrying with anxious nerves.

She noticed a fair boy with strikingly iced coloured hair — the boy sat afar with two other friends. Their grins had turned to malice towards smaller students — cruel and devilish smiles softened when he whispered to his friends.

Their features weren't as inviting as she had initially seen.

Her eyes had gazed into a particular compartment, a compartment that only had a sole passenger. Her hands clasped around the hook of the handle, sliding the thinly wooded door over a smidge, and inclined from the narrowed aisle.

A smaller girl sat to the corner. Her natural hair was stretched to her calves — the dirty blonde had placed her hair in loosely curled braids that had laid to her side. Specs of extraordinary petals of violet orchids with blooming tinges of canary and magenta.

Florina could feel the enjoyable of aura of the girl.

"Hello, do you mind if I sit here?" she inquired, smiling to avoid being rejected from the compartment.

"Please do. I would love the company," her pale hands fitted on the seat across, lightly dusting the velvet textures.

"Thank You."

The dazing girl's eyes smiled to the other girl, crinkles around began to soften when her mouth faintly opened. "My name is Luna... what's yours?"

"I'm Flora," her frame had reclined into the seat, resting her body while feeling herself comforted by the presence of the blonde.

"That's pretty. It reminds me of flowers," giggles softly erupted from her mouth.

"Yeah—"

The door had furiously interrupted the pair, their heads turned to the doorway to see two bodies of students.

A boy with a dark blond tint of hair — close to being chestnut had stood behind a girl. His expression was more forgiving to the excessive force on how the girl had opened the door.

The girl with fiercely flaming red hair, pale complexion that had been buried by the fainting cedar hints of her freckles.

Her brown eyes scanned the contents of the compartment, and subtly scoffing as she had settled in the compartment.

The redhead dragged herself next to Flora while the boy sat next to the eccentric Luna.

"What's your names?" she asked.

"Oh um, I'm Flora and this is Luna," her index finger had extended from her chest and towards the blonde girl.

The ginger girl nodded, "Cool, I'm Ginny Weasley and this is Neville Longbottom."

"Say, what house do you reckon you'll be sorted into? I mean you are new right? I-I've never seen you before," Neville conversed with Flora, scuffling himself in a comfortable position.

"I'm not sure but I have my heart set on being in Ravenclaw."

The Ravenclaw house was favourited by her mother, more because she was sorted into the house when she had attended Hogwarts in the 1960s.

Slytherin blood ran through her body, positive on making it into the evil rather than the rest of her traits. Her father and brother were Slytherin boys, cunning and devious they were, however, Eros had developed from that when he was appointed Head Boy and Quidditch Captain.

"Well, as long as it isn't Slytherin," he continued.

"How come?"

"They're very... peculiar—"

"They're fucking arseholes. The lot of them," Ginny intensely interrupted the blonde girl while expressing her opinionated thoughts.

"Well then, I guess I'll take your word for it," she settled back into the seat, her body seeped into place.

Butterflies fluttered amidst her stomach, nervous for what house she was destined for, and the concept of being at the same school as Cedric had attended before he passed.

It was all nerve-wracking to take in, breathing steadily as she had turned her head to face the wintering glass.

Glints of light had shone through the thick trees, projecting the moon rays into the haunting darkness of Scotland. The lustre of light had reminisced her mind to the time when she and Cedric would ride the muggle bikes at night — just before her father died.

It brought joy and pain to the girl.   
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  
  


The Hogwarts Express had halted to a stiffening stop, awakening the girl from a deep nap of endless vivid images.

Crowds of fleshed bodies had scattered from compartments, marching in a rhythm of excitement out of the muddy scarlet painted train.

Ginny briskly clutched to her luggage from over the seating area and proceeded to storm from the compartment, leaving without warning.

"What's her problem?"

"She probably has to get something from her brothers," Neville shrugged, slouching down to obtain a silvery object that had dropped.

The trio had sauntered from the train, stepping through the cracks of the dried mud from the humidity of the earth.

Neville led the way to the front gates of the school, tightly wrapping his fingers around the slippery surface of the lantern holder.

"I love Thestrals!" Luna expressed adoration as she had softly skipped past the two students. Her body delightfully paced towards a carriage.

Thestrals? What are Thest —" Florina gasped, stopping at the sight of the unusual-looking creatures. Her eyes grazed over the creatures, their skeletal bodies were sleek amongst the dark and the wings had stretched far.

"Thestrals," she repeated once more to them. Luna had continued to hoist herself into the cool-toned carriage. "Thestrals can only be seen if you have witnessed death. And you've seen death."

"Unfortunately. My father died when I was young... Death Eaters of course," Florina could feel the sadness of salted tears overpowering her eyes, fortunately, they maintained being hidden.

Neville was stiff, unable to grasp the view of the dark creatures. He too could see them. His sight wandered around the corners of his body, pacing back and forth.

"Neville, are you coming?"

"I-I- uh yeah," he mumbled, forcing himself onto the steps of the carriage, away from the creatures. It was all still frightening to see the sight of them.

"WAIT!" A distinctive voice trailed behind. A girl with dark curled hair had rushed to the carriage, gaining speed as she grabbed onto the handle. "Luna, I said to wait for me," she puffed.

"I forgot."

"That's fine. Hello Neville," she smiled, following her head to see a girl sitting next to him. "Are you new?"

"Yes, yes I am. My name is Flora."

"I love your name, I'm Ziva," her hands settled down onto her lap, glancing around at the empty woodland. "Pretty cool how the carriages move without support huh?"

"The Thestrals?"

"Oh no, don't tell me that you've stumbled into one of Loony's crazy talks, have you?" her cackles had slightly amplified into echoes.

Flora was addled about the 'Loony' teasers behind Luna's back — however, Luna was quite aware of the circumstances.

"I'm just joking, I love Luna," her head rested against the nook of the blonde girl's shoulder, with gentle eyes focused on the brisk scenery.

The sudden stop of the carriage had jolted the quartet from their relaxing state. Their feet had descended from the high steps of the coach, and with the assistance of the Professors.

Professor McGonagall had led the first years together in front of the Great Hall, marking them in the corridors with the help of a supervisor. "Florina!" she swished her hand to the younger girl.

"Good luck, hope you get sorted into Ravenclaw," Ziva waved at her.

"Would you mind following me to the Headmaster's office?" McGonagall stepped to the side, gripping to the lantern.

"Sure."

The pair leisurely strolled up the Grand Staircase, following the royal carpets of the interior stone flooring.

Her legs trailed closely behind the Professor, feeling the warmth of the air as it had hit towards her body, splitting into different locations within her skin.

Her brother had told her about the sorting ceremony in the Great Hall, however, they were heading heavily away from the Hall. Perhaps, her mother had requested a private sorting ceremony.

"In," the older lady requested, ushering the girl up the steep spiralling staircases of the Headmaster's office.

The office was bigger than she had expected, a desk was neatly centred on the first level of the room. Paintings of portraits and landscapes had scattered on the rigid greying surface of the walls.

A wooden chair had been purposely placed to the corner with a wilted dark material that was in the shape of a pointed hat.

"Sit there," her frail finger that was draped in wrinkled skin had pointed out to the chair as she cautiously lifted the hat.

Flora sat on the chair in anticipation for her to be sorted in her rightful house. The lady had then proceeded to gently place the old hat roughly on the crown of her head.

"Ah," the hat awoke, "hmm, where do we put you?"

Her eyes wandered alongside the brim of the hat, watching the tone of the surroundings down in colour, increasing in the dark themes.

"Cunning, ambitious — however, powerful in creativity and knowledge," he concluded, determining how she would perform in each house. And juggling the two houses of Ravenclaw and Slytherin. "Better be... Ravenclaw!"

 _Ravenclaw —_ the house she had desired the most.   
  
  



	3. 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃

**THE GIRL AWOKE TO FAINT HUMMING** sounds producing from the side of her bed. The girl looked at the blonde-haired girl who had her eyes closed and in a still meditative position. Ziva sat on her bed, warming a smile at her — she was quite used to it now.

"Luna?" Flora spoke, tilting her head with utter curiosity.

"She does this every morning. It's sort of a routine for her," Ziva softly laid on her stomach, resting above the midnight blue sheets, silken with tinges of golden bronze.

"Sorry to disturb you. I didn't mean to—"

"No! That's fine. I should be thanking you for waking me up," she showed a flash of sincerity from within her smile and creasing of the skin around her eyelids.

She scanned the contents of the room, silver and bronze linings skipped around the walls in decoration. Blossoms of periwinkle tulips and lavender roses sprung from the corners of the window, peering in an obvious light.

Her dresser laid to the right of her bed, with a black fabric draped over the wooden surface. Her robes stationed below the rest of her uniform with a glossing violet hair clip on top — made by her mother with a touch of a dead butterfly in resin.

Flora grabbed the uniform and headed towards their dormitory bathroom. It was convenient for a bathroom to be in each dorm room so that everyone could feel comfortable doing their essentials.

Ziva and Luna had already been dressed in their Ravenclaw uniforms, robes strapped onto their bodies with a flowing feel of the flaps of the arms and torso.

The Ravenclaw common room was cooler than the dormitories, tones of blue shivered the atmosphere with spots of warmth filling the spiralling staircase. It was a drag to keep moving along the stairs, but rather a chore to get to and from the Ravenclaw tower.

The trio sauntered the tiling delicacy of the stone flooring, and leathery shoes clacked against it with subtle drags. And as bodies of students scattered amongst each corridor, filling the emptied spaces with more warmth.

She could feel the floating flutters painfully circling inside her stomach, nervous shivers spiked down her body and settling as they were approached by two ginger boys.

"Well Hello, ladies!" one twin conversed.

"Fred, George. How's the start of your final year?" Ziva spoke with interesting enthusiasm for their opinionated views.

"It's the last year for our pranks, but at least we don't have to spend more time in this dreary school," George Weasley confessed.

"But who's to say that it is the last of our pranks?" Fred continued, egging his ideas further than they were questioned.

"You better not be pranking us right?"

"Of course not, _Zee-vee!"_ they both dubiously glanced to each other, suspecting future wars of pranks.

"Wow, that was very convincing. I think I'm convinced that you aren't going to prank us," she sarcastically concluded.

Fred Weasley harshly patted against the crown of her head, and slowly turning to face the other girl, "Flora, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, nice to meet you. We're going to head off to the Gryffindor table now," George waved to the girls, dragging his feet to the table with fiery warm tinges of red.

"They seem... nice?"

"Trust me on this, but when you've known them for a certain time, then they start to get on your nerves," Ziva clutched to the girl, walking towards the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall.

The Ravenclaw table was fitted between the Slytherin and Gryffindor house tables — each with their distinctive decorative placements. A deep blue lining has spanned across the table with a row of food above it.

"Cho, could you pass me one?" her index finger guided the other Ravenclaw girl to a splendid bowl of reddened apples.

_Cho?_

Flora had heard that name before or had seen it in a letter — Cedric's letter. Cho was the girl he had attended the Yule Ball with and the girl whom he had dated before he died.

She was the girl who had caught the heart of the late Hufflepuff boy, instead of Flora.

"Okay, we have Ancient Runes first and then followed by Transfiguration," Ziva said to the girl, grazing her eyes down the column of the timetable. "Luna has Care of Magical Creatures first... I think."

"I can't decide on what my favourite creature is," her fingers clasped against each other, and her eyes gleaming with daze.

"Say, Flora, are you any chance related to Eros Cates? The Head Boy in Slytherin?"

"Unfortunately he's my brother," her fingers glided around the rim of her cup, taking slight sips of orange juice.

"I knew it! You look so much like him," the girl connected the dots she had been wondering when she first saw Flora at the carriage.

"Ew — I would say that I'm the better-looking sibling."

"Zivy fancies him," Luna slyly confessed, unintentionally embarrassing the dark-haired girl further.

"Oh stop it, Luna! I don't!"

"Well, he's annoying and boring. He's all about school rules now, it's a bore to be related to him," she eyed her brother, forcing an irritating glance at him before shifting her eyesight to the same blond boy in the train. "Who's that?"

Ziva bopped her head slightly to fit the girl's finger point, "oh, that's Draco Malfoy. He's an arse and you do not want to be—"

"Sis," Blaise Zabini peered from behind the two girls and turning his head to the brunette girl, "new girl."

"Blaise, it's Flora. Say it with me, Floor—ra," Ziva clearly enunciated her name.

"Sorry," his facial expression hinted a sign of sincere. "There's a party in the Slytherin common room tomorrow night and I was wondering if you wanted to come?" he slid the girl a stripped piece of parchment to the girl, before heading to his table.

"What does it say?" Ziva asked.

" _Salazar_?"

"Oh, that's one of the passwords to the Slytherin common room. He's a founding member of the school," she vaguely primed the girl with a justification for the reason of the password. A Slytherin pride.   
  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  
  


"The kitchens are where I like to head off sometimes with the Weasley twins," Ziva reminisced the nights she'd spend in the kitchens, pigging on endless pastries.

"You and the Weasley twins are pretty close huh?"

"You could say that Fred and I had a thing," she smiled, glinting a hint of unconditional sadness.

"Had? Oh, I'm sorry."

"No worries. I didn't know he liked a girl named Angelina Johnson until he took her to the Yule Ball last year," her eyes pivoted away from the girl, quickening a change of mood from the warmth.

"So what's wrong that Malfoy kid?" she asked, relaxing a stroll behind the other girl. "He looks arrogant."

"He is! He's also annoying, irritating and thinks that Pure-bloods are superior," Ziva noted.

"Pure-bloods huh?"

"Takes after his father. The whole lot of 'em are annoying and rich as fuck, except for his mother — she's amazing. I go there sometimes with Blaise but only for her," the border of her iris gleamed with the pure lustre of sweet sight.

"Sounds like an absolute git that boy."

"Truly. Come, I'll show you to the Three Broomsticks," the dark-haired girl grasped onto the streaky surface of her fingers.

The halls were split into different corridors of the castle, the pair roamed to the northwest of the castle and locating a quick route.

Students were crowded amongst the olden rubbles of the castle, and circling the courtyard. The atmospheric temperature began to drop with sudden winds exposed by the clouded skies compacting together.

The two Ravenclaw girls gained a steady weight to the ground and carefully treading on the slithering pathways of Hogsmeade. The sky had looked as if it were about to erupt streaming tears down onto the girls.

There was a difference between the outside and inside the Inn as the pair had been dowsed in the sweet essence of the warming aroma. The Three Broomsticks was a particular spot for students to relax in the weekends, and sometimes after classes.

It was only rare for McGonagall to let them explore Hogsmeade during the weekdays.

"I'll get us the butterbeer, you go sit with them over there," Ziva extended her index finger to match up with where Ginny, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger sat.

Flora gradually made her way towards the trio, nervous to introduce herself without Ziva's comforting help.

She wasn't usually shy — it was only because she was new and hadn't quite been settled into the school yet.

"Hello," she interrupted, speaking with a heartfelt smile of belonging.

"Hello! You're Flora right?" the girl with a tamely curling hair asked and all dressed in Gryffindor colours.

"Yeah."

"I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced, her finger pointed to herself then towards the two Gryffindor gingers, "and this is Ron and—"

"Ginny. Yeah, I remember you from the carriage."

"I have an impact," Ginny grinned effortlessly, and pressing her hand against the seat next to her, gesturing for the girl to sit.

"How are you liking it at Hogwarts so far?"

"Well, I haven't been bullied yet so... great?" honest answer — she had been bullied by prissy girls from when had been at Beauxbatons. However, only had made two friends; Fleur Delacour and Charlotte Blanchet.

"Say, isn't your brother Eros Cates? I heard your last name was Cates," Ron mumbled, scrambles of chocolate trifle infused with the sound of his chewing.

"Yep."

"Woah, Eros is fucking hot," the red-haired girl admitted, admitted to admiring the older girl's brother.

Flora didn't know what to do or say, so she had stuck with an uncomfortable nod of her head and a slight no teeth smile.

"Ginny! Are you joking? What if someone had said that I was hot to you, would you get uncomfortable?" Ron deathly stared at his younger sister, eyeing her restless movements.

"Well... no one's ever said that about you so..." she muttered, trailing off her sentence as she leaned against the backside of her chair.

Ziva returned with two cups filled with a light coloured liquid — sweetly butterscotch layered with a creaming top. She hadn't remembered the last time she tasted the sickly sweet beverage, nor the taste of it.

A small sip had induced the features of her mouth with euphoria— a tonic of joy when reminiscing the warm taste.

"What are you four talking about?"

"Ginny and Ron were arguing about how they fancy Eros, Flora's brother," Hermione spoke with endearment for the ginger siblings but with utter annoyance.

"Ugh I know right?! Ron, I didn't know you played like that," Ziva teased, erupting a long silence around the group, however, Ginny had merely noticed the joke.

"What?! I-I don't fancy Eros! I'm not—"

"You're not like what... Ron? Go on, say it," she insisted, eyeing the lanky boy until he had breathed and gave in.

"I like girls, okay?"

"I think I saw you staring longingly into Loony Lovegood's crazy eyes," the red-haired girl nudged his arm.

"Ginny, you know her name is Luna," the dark-haired girl reminded her of Luna's name, however, trying to tolerate her ignorance and prejudice against eccentricity was enduring.

"I know that she's fucking weird."  
  
  



	4. 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐓

**THE DULL MONOTONOUS WALLS** of the dungeons had scattered throughout the corridors — splitting into an array of a maze. The dimly lit candles waved a flicker of warmth from the girl's briskly movements.

She had allowed her brother, Eros to borrow some of her requested notes for his N.E.W.T exams. An advantage to be studying for it in such an earlier time into the schooling year.

Flora promenaded the jagged hallways, eyeing each aggressive approach into different corridors. It was an exact replica of a hedging maze. She huffed with every struggling dead-end that had mockingly fished her from the corners.

"Fucking hell," she breathed, agitation seeped from her huffs. "I could use a map right now."

But in fact, she had passed the same blank wall of a rough slated surface, approximately five times — not realising the entry for the Slytherin common room was just near her.

_Thud._

She felt her body forcibly drag to the dusted floors of the corridor. And shaking her head with utter dizziness as to how she ended down on the ground.

"Watch where the fuck you are going," a maliciously stubborn voice peeked from above her.

The girl held her hand to the crown of her head, resting as she tilted her head towards the mumbling voice of the stranger. Her eyes located on his, locking within the voided depths of his chilling grey eyes.

The boy's iced hair curtained a strand of hair over his uprisen eyebrow — fallen out of place when she had bumped her body against his.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she gathered her self and grounded her feet to the floor in stability. Specks of dust flowed from her robes, lightly brushing the surface with her tenderly palms.

"Whatever," he scoffed. His eyes narrowed down onto her, examining aspects of her, "Don't bump into me ever again."

"Well, do you know where—"

His echoing footsteps tore her words from expanding, and he stormed away into the deep hollowness of the corridors.

"Good chat," she observed his figure change into an utter vapour.

He was now out of view.

Seething breaths amplified in the frustrating silence, impatiently tapping the outsole against the solid tiled floors. She was also missing the morning meals of the day, and all because she couldn't pinpoint the exact location of the common room.

Minute by minute had flown through her head — what felt like hours had completely turned to angst.

"Flora?" The familiar deepened voice of her brother emerged and anxious nerves had settled back into the trenching depths of the lower of her stomach. "Why are you standing in front of the entrance?"

"Eros, I-" she stumbled upon her words, however, turning her head in curiosity towards her brother. "What entrance?"

Eros had let out a clever laugh, and before uttering a word to the blank wall. "Salazar."

Greyish stone bricks had caved itself away from the middle — unveiling to reveal an arching door with vague Latin imprinted around the curving outline.

The older boy turned back to his sister, and pointed out the hidden doorway, "that entrance." And before guiding her in towards the common room that was decorated with flashes of emerald expressed tones.

"This is cool," she peered around the nooks of the common room.

"Isn't it? Wait here," he commanded the girl to ground her feet in stillness as he wandered off into his dormitory.

The common room was emptied of students, quiet ran throughout the room with clearing silence. It felt peaceful without any obnoxious mutters coming from Slytherin mouths.

The depths of the outside waters of the Black Lake had flooded over the room — filling a darkened tint over the stoned walls. She felt as if she were submerged in the liquids, but she was still dried up in her Ravenclaw robes.

" _Ahem_."

Flora turned to notice Blaise Zabini ushering his hand towards the handle of his door. The handle that had been blocked by her as she stood waiting for Eros. "Uhm, you are blocking the door to my room."

"Oh, I am?" she swiftly scooted her body slightly to the side. "There you go."

"Thanks love," he shot a quick flash of his teeth as he slithered himself into the cracks of the door, and before gently closing it.

He wasn't as vexing as the other Slytherins.

"Okay, here's your notes and textbook," Eros returned from minutes long of a hiatus. He forwarded the resources to the top her palms, however, still gripping as he looked her dead in the eye. "Don't do anything stupid while you are at this school. Okay?"

"Yes, yes — I won't." Flora tugged to the papers, clutching them as she sped her way out from the common room.

The stairs of the Grand Staircase were nothing more than a slight nudging trick to confuse students on their sudden jolted swings. Movements that stretched out all over the place, and with portraits grazing the walls.

She tightly held to the rough surface of the railing, stiffening her legs to ensure that she wouldn't fall down by accident.

Flora felt anxious flutters rising in tension and circling up to the surface of her stomach— gripping her body tight.

"Hello," a dark-haired boy entered her sight. His eyes carefully examined her facial features underneath his inclusive spectacles. And his bolting scar had shone through the cracks of his strands.

_Harry Potter._

"Hi."

"You're Flora right?"

"Yes," her continuous nods trailed a confirmation of identity. "Say, your forehead scar is pretty cool Harry."

"Thanks," the boy grinned with soft ease. "How did you know my name?" he raised a suspecting eyebrow at her.

"Everyone knows the Chosen One's name," Flora intended a shrug — following her eyes to a corridor that had lead straight towards the Great Hall. "I better get going. See you around Potter," waving the boy off as she strolled into the hall.

The hall filled with copious bodies of students sitting in their assigned house tables — playfully conversing with each other with plates filled of food.

Morning supper was an accomplishment for starting the day.   
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  
  


The Ravenclaw tower fell into utter silence — hushed toning silence of bodies of students studying or leisurely chatting.

Blaise had invited her to attend the new school year party in the Slytherin common room, accompanied of course with her new friend.

Their Ravenclaw dormitory was hidden to the far side of the hallway that connected all of the girl's dorms. The moon rays filled a lustre of glow through the draping Raven curtains of mixes of blue and golden bronzes.

Luna Lovegood was in the forest — talking to the woodlands and feeding the skeletal bodies of Thestrals. Although, the blonde was quite an eccentric and mysterious girl who would disappear for hours on end.

Florina glanced at herself in the arching curves of the mirror and plastered a delicate smile on her face. She never had close friends at her other school, however, there was one girl who treated her well— Fleur Delacour.

A lavender satin dress draped over her frame, slipped over her body with the intent of accentuating her features in depth. It one of the few gifts that Fleur had gifted her during her departure from Beauxbatons.

She gathered herself, stepping loosely against the velvet-like textures of the Ravenclaw common room carpet as she swept her way towards the doorway to the stairs of the tower.

Her hands clasped around her shoes, and her bare feet roamed the roughly stoned surface of the steps. She could feel the brisk stones as the sensitivity of her inner feet grazed against it — warmth surrounded her body with a touch of chills raging from below.

Flora noticed Ziva conversing with the ginger twins at the end of the spiralling stairs — deep in mid-conversation as they peered up from the corner.

"You look amazing," Ziva peered a genuine smile with pure astonished eyes.

"Let's go now!" Fred Weasley tugged to his brother, guiding the paths of the castle with little dims of the candle lights.

"Rush me again and I'll uninvite you Freddie. I mean, Gryffindors aren't invited," her body paced behind the ginger and sauntered next to Flora.

The castle walls hollowed out the corridors, dull tones amplified the darkness of the night. And with little flames of golden canary contrasting against the solid surfaces.

The quartet toed through the passages, wandering the halls with hushed whispering echoes of anxious thoughts of being caught out by Filch. However, the Weasley twins had quite the proclivity for sneaking past curfew and others.

The dungeon corridors felt unnerving to her during the night rather than the earlier morning.

A vulnerable risk now for being caught by Professor Snape.

"Salazar," Flora muttered to the sealed body of stones that had been formatted to ensure that only those with the password can easily slip in.

Again, the bricks came loose. Hurried to scatter away from the middle of the wall and unveiling to reveal the same door she witnessed in the earlier hours of the day.

Flora's hand grasped over the silvered metal of the knob, twisting it with a squeeze as she released it from the clutches. Her palms connected to the wooden door, pushing against it as opened with ease.

Music from inside washed over their heads, sliding into their eardrums and blasting from only the common room. It was slightly muffled from outside the door— a simple spell to not get caught out by the Professor.

"Ladies!" Theo Nott emerged from the room that was situated just next to the entrance and exit of the common room. "And Weasleys'," he furrowed at the two boys.

"Nott," Ziva walked past him, smiling at the star-struck boy. The vibrations from the heavy music blasted out from the corners of everywhere, filling the room as students danced to it.

Green flashes of deep hunter swept the walls with intense flickers, positioning in different directions of the common room.

It was quite blinding with the intensity of the colours.

Illuminating smokes of translucency invaded the flooring, producing from below as it seeped over the place. It wasn't the type of smoke to cough your lungs out when you had inhaled it.

Nothing happened when it invaded her mouth and nose — a mist of an illusion.

"TALK ABOUT WICKED!" Fred yelled.

"WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU FREDDIE!" Ziva responded just as loud as Fred. "COME!" she dragged the twins out to the floor where a huge amount of students were, directing her eyes to the beverages.

"I'll catch up with you soon!" Flora left the main area of the common room, scanning around the foyer of the entrance. There was one door that had been locked since she first entered the party, the door had a regular lock on it from the inside.

One of her annoying attributes of the girl was that she was devotedly curious — curiosity would indeed take over her.

It was none of her business to know why the door was locked but she couldn't see anybody else in the halls, so she went for it. " _Alohomora_ ," she muttered, the door creaked a centimetre as she pushed the door open.

The same blonde-haired boy from the train and a dark-haired girl laid on the couch, aggressively making out and while being utterly oblivious to the girl in the doorway. The girl on the couch jolted up as she saw the brunette girl, Draco angrily turned his head to see what had interrupted them so badly.

"Do you mind!?" he snarled.

"Oh, I-I... ummm."

"Leave," Pansy Parkinson gestured her hand to the door and the girl nodded in embarrassment. She swiftly closed the door behind her and leaned on the door, her back facing the wooden door.

_'Damn the curiosity.'_

"Saw something that you hadn't wished to see?" Harry smiled at the girl, making his way towards her.

"More like getting out of there before it progressively got worse," she chuckled, smiling up at his bright green eyes. "I thought Gryffindors weren't welcomed in Slytherin turfs?"

"Yeah we aren't, but I'm with Ginny and Ron," he pointed to the two ginger siblings, making their way to the pair.

"I got you a drink," Ginny handed a cup to the girl, it consisted of a half filled cup with Firewisky.

"Thank you!" Flora smiled, taking a sip from the cup and dealing with the burning sensation of the beverage.

Flora eyed around the room and clutched onto Ginny's arm as they moved closer to the crowd, still having the cup in her hand. Ginny and Flora smiled as they paced to the crowded bodies of flesh, however, it was fun while it lasted when a girl's elbow hit the drink out of Flora's hand.

The cup flew from her hands and towards a girl, Pansy. A loud shrieking squeal came from Pansy Parkinson as everyone looked at her, drenched with the burning Fire whisky.

"NO YOU DID NOT!" Pansy yelled, storming towards the brunette girl.

"Leave it, don't say sorry," Ginny whispered to the brunette girl, looking annoyed at Pansy.

"WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS RUINING EVERYTHING!" she looked at Flora, grabbing onto her wand as if she were to cast a spell on the brunette.

"Pansy, fuck off," Ziva heaved herself next to her friends.

"You know what Zabini, get fucking lost!" Draco scoffed.

"Draco, there's no need for that!" Blaise emerged from the crowd, grabbing his sister's arm in reassurance.

"Blaise, which fucking side are you on?!" Everyone was in circling around the different friend groups and watching the party unfold.

"i-I, yours."

"Then stop defending your bitch of a sister." Draco grinned.

"That's it," Ginny whispered before getting held back by Ron.

"How dare you talk to her like that!" Flora spoke up, defending her friend. Her eyes heavily pierced onto his expression.

"What?!" he walked closer to the girl, he was at least three inches away from her face when his eyes examined her facial expression and features. "Say it again," he muttered.

"I said.." she spoke for herself, shifting her eyes from the friends, and back towards the taller boy. "I said, you're a gormless git who preys on students just for validation from your daddy. And if you asked me, I think it's fucking pathetic."

There were a few distinctive breaths from different students around them but it felt good knowing that she had somewhat put him in his place.

"Fuck off," he scoffed, returning back to Pansy and leaving everyone to continue partying.

"I love you for that!" Ziva hugged the girl.

"I've never seen anyone call him names to his face," Ginny urgently rejoiced.

"Yeah well.. he's never had anything against me... until now," she wasn't sure if this was a good thing, knowing his family were Pure-bloods and all. 


	5. 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊

**FLORA SMILED AUSPICIOUSLY** as she pranced her way through the castle halls and corridors. The morning sun rays of warming merriness had shone through the tinted mosaic glass windows and projected onto her hair.

The Great Hall had exceeded expectations of how the morning would entice students to devour full meals— hinting the honest work of the elves.

She smiled towards the dark curly-haired girl as she walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. Smells emitted from every food swirled with each other and creating an amazing scent of her favourite flavours.

"Hello," she carefully sat down at the Ravenclaw table, noticing from the corner of her right eye, the bleach blonde boy eyeing her from the Slytherin table.

"Good Morning!" Ziva took a sip of her beverage, every small sip she took, she would look into the cup and made sure that the twins hadn't slipped any potions into it.

"Wonderful it is!" Luna announced, agreeing with the two girls on the morning rays.

"We have Defense Against the Dark Arts soon and I haven't heard many great things about the new teacher." Ziva examined her timetable.

"Oh yeah, my father talked about how the ministry is corrupted.. when he taught here." Flora placed a serving of scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and a strip of bacon onto her plate.

"He did?"

"Yep before he died, Professor Nicholas Willard Cates in the 1980s. He was also a Slytherin, like Eros."

"What about your mum?" Luna asked.

"Muggle-Born and was in Ravenclaw," she smiled, however, the two girls were surprised when they heard 'Muggle-Born'.

"Muggle-Born? You mean that you're a half-blood?" Ziva looked at her like she was missing some bit of information.

"Am I missing something? Is that bad?" she looked at both girls with worried glances.

"Eros has been telling people for years now that your family is Pure-blood."

"Pure-blood? What?" she looked over at her brother, chatting and laughing away with all of his mates, _Pure-bloods._ "I think I need to talk to him," she slowly got up and turned towards the Slytherin table, walking towards him and grabbing onto his ear. She couldn't pull him by the ear but it got him to follow her out of the Great Hall.

"Pure-blood? So we're Pure-Bloods now?" she scolded.

"You know?.." he sighed before turning his head from the Slytherin table and back towards his younger sister.

"Yeah I know, explain!"

"Since I was sorted into Slytherin, it's different. The prejudice towards Muggles, Muggle-Borns and Half-bloods are far worse," he stated. "They don't respect you if you associate yourself with Muggle-Borns Or Muggles."

"So?.."

"Flori, you don't get it."

"So you're just going to lie your way to the top?" she dismissed what he was trying to say and instead forwarded the blame to him.

"No! I lied and said I was a Pure-blood because I respect mother too much, it was better than to abandon the Muggle side." Eros arranged the wrinkles of his crease to a mere existence as he settled. "And don't act like you don't lie your way to the top too."

"But-"

"Please, please go along with it. I don't want you to get hurt, knowing that I let it happen — the prejudice," he begged, hoping that she would understand that bullying does have an impact on the social status and blood types.

"I just don't understand how you were sorted into Slytherin."

"Slytherins are just typed out as evil. It's not all that," he shrugged.

"I know."

"When I graduate, can you do the same for Melia? For when she starts next year." The tall brown-haired boy released her from the hug and smiled softly, walking away as she nodded in silence.

Florina waited for Ziva to finish with her breakfast so they could walk to class together, _Defense Against the Dark Arts._ They entered the classroom and the only spots that were still available were either next to Neville Longbottom or Hermione Granger.

"I'll sit next to Neville." Ziva placed herself next to Neville, Florina sat next to Hermione in front of them. Ron and Harry were in front of the two girls, waiting for the Professor to come and teach them about the dark arts, spells, curses, hexes and more.

"Where is-"

The wooden door suddenly began to squeak open as a plump woman, dressed in soft pink, heavily stepped towards the front of the room.

"That door needs to be fixed!" The woman said, smiling softly towards everyone in the room. Flora noticed that the woman was always insidiously joyful, over showing her pride with much rapture. "O.W.Ls, more commonly known as OWLS," she enthusiastically pointed the extensions of her wand to the smaller chalkboard.

"Fucks sake," Ziva whispered, a mere voice within the silence.

"What was that dear?" Umbridge glared the pierced descents of her pupils at the girl, heaving a glassed grin as she waited for a response.

"I-I, uh.." she stuttered.

"Speak when you are spoken to!" The pink lady continued with her class, Flora could feel the embarrassment that Ziva had endured.

One by one, books were flicked onto everyone's desk, curtesy from the pink teacher, Umbridge. Glaring at everyone else in the room as the students groaned about having to only do book work and no use of magic.

_Books._

_... and more books._

Flora looked at Hermione, both of them rolling their eyes and stared at the annoyingly happy lady. The colour pink wasn't looking too good either, more of a fad if she kept the 'lack of brain knowledge' act.

"There's nothing in here about using defensive spells."

"Using spells?" Umbridge gave off an irritating high pitched laugh, "I can't imagine why you would need to use spells," she walked closer to the two girls, stopping in front of them and next to Harry.

"Wait, no magic?" Flora looked puzzled. "Isn't this a magical school though?" she hushed the tones of her voice to Hermione.

Umbridge rambled on about why students shouldn't use magic in her classroom and how learning from books are better. _Bullshit._ Harry disagreed with everything that the pink lady had said, dismissing her as she was convinced that Cedric wasn't killed by Voldemort.

"Let me make this clear, you have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large, once again this is a lie," she calmly walked slowly towards the dark-haired boy, enunciating the words she spoke.

"It's not a lie!" Harry spoke up, interrupting her glances on him as she quickly walked back to the front of the classroom. All this talk about Cedric had made the brunette girl uncomfortable and unnerved to the thought of his death.

He wasn't just killed, he was killed by Voldemort and his accomplices. It was for a fact that Voldemort was very much alive now and the Ministries were dismissing any involvement with his return.

"Voldemort killed Cedric! You know that, you just don't believe it." Flora stood up and angrily stared at the lady, she was infuriated that her best friend was killed by a powerful dark wizard. No justice. No fight. He's just dead.

"Excuse me?!"

"What I'm hearing from your logic, is that Cedric dropped dead on the floor? Why isn't the Ministry listening?!" she pleaded, "why are-"

"DETENTION! Both of you!" Umbridge fiercely said, giving that same high pitched laugh as she continued teaching the students.  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  


"How'd you get a detention for that?" Luna curiously asked the brunette girl.

"I asked myself the same question," she shrugged.

Florina and Luna both sat on the Ravenclaw common room floor with some floor pillows as they sat and talked about their day. Ziva was nowhere to be found after the class, probably in the Slytherin common room asking her brother something, probably also gawking at Flora's brother too.

"So there's this girl.." Luna murmured.

"Oh yeah?"

"I-I think she's pretty.." Luna looked at the floor, staring at a heavy book on the ground, "it's peculiar."

"What?"

"She's peculiar, kind of like me," she continued, sighing softly with a dazed expression and proceeded to gently smile at the brunette girl.

"She's one of a kind huh?"

"Precisely!" she smiled, her mouth getting wider as she was happily imagining the girl that she liked.

"Luna, you know that you can always tell me." Flora placed a hand on her pale, soft hands, reassuring her that there was nothing to hide.

"You'll probably laugh. I'm not exactly fitted with everyone here."

"Never," she said, still tightly holding onto her hand.

"I like girls, well... Zivee to be exact." Luna closed her eyes, not wanting to see the brunette girl's reaction to her confession. She had only slowly opened her eyes when she saw Flora's comforting smile.

"I love you, you know that. I've only known you for about a week but you're amazing." The brunette girl smiled and gently hugged the blonde girl, still sitting on a bunch of throw pillows on the floor as students passed them.

"We can pretend that we've known each other for years!" The blonde-haired girl smiled back.

"I have to go to that detention. I'll see you after!" The brunette quickly stood up and waved to the blonde before walking out of the Ravenclaw common room and down the stairs.

The castle corridors were empty and dark, all the students were presumably in their common rooms or studying in the library. She slowly crept towards the third floor, not noticing that Harry was walking behind her.

"Hello."

"Merlin!" The brunette girl jumped, playfully hitting Harry's shoulder as he laughed at her frightened state.

"I scared you huh?"

"Yep, sure did." The pair walked up countless stairs, nervously staring at the classroom before knocking on the door.

The door had unlocked before they were about to knock, the office was painted in all pink, pink walls and pink decorations, they were soft but the pink lady sure wasn't. The room was as if a bunch of different pink shades threw up on her walls, mixed with some ugly 1950's decorations. Kittens and cats were situated on ceramic plates, they had been hung up on all of the walls, ' _creepy,'_ Flora thought.

"Sit," she placed the pair, opposite from each other and offered them both a black quill with no ink and a blank parchment paper. The sleek design of the quill had a sharp pointed tip, sharp enough to even cut you gently with no pressure applied.

"Do we get ink or-"

"No ink. You won't be needing it," Umbridge turned 180 degrees to face the window, the night swallowed the last bit of the fading sunset.

"Wait, what do we write?" Flora asked.

"I must not tell lies."

"How many times?" The dark-haired boy's eyes glanced to the very right of him as the pink toad stood seconds behind him.

"As many times," she shrugged.

"Lies, pfft," The brunette girl scoffed and prepared her black quill.

Umbridge furiously whipped around to face the pair, "you dare to talk back to me!?"

"I just think that it's so stupi-" she paused, quickly glancing towards the boy, who subtly shook his head and motioned his hand for her shut up. "Nothing."

"That's what I thought. You're just a silly girl who inherited her annoying traits from her useless father," the short lady stood closer and smiled down at the younger girl.

"You don't know my father."

"Pity. It is a shame that he died.."

Silence filled the tension of the room. Florina tried to hold back her tears, her eyes and eyelashes flickered and wrestled with the fresh salted tears.

"Nothing to say? Good."

Minutes had passed, slowly staring longingly at the time as she struggled to write the first word with what felt like bricks pushing down her eyelids. A stinging sensation had been painfully embedded into her skin, she looked up to find Harry who had been bleeding on the same spot. The line was not seen on the parchment but more so on the back of her right hand, confusing the girl as she'd never seen anything like it.

The pink toad was completely oblivious to the excruciating pain the pair had endured while she silently smiled out into the window of pure darkness and magic.

"Ow," she muttered, clenching her teeth against her plump bottom lip as the stinging feeling kept going, finishing the words, ' _I must not tell lies.'_

"Is there a problem?" she turned around once more, glaring at the written marks that had been brutally imprinted of both of their hands.

"Yeah, my hand is-"

"You two can go!" Umbridge interrupted.

That opportunity had given Flora a head start out of the poorly decorated but oriented office as Harry struggled to keep up. She managed to get far away from the 3rd floor before complaining about the pain, making sure that she didn't have any ears or eyes on them.

"I suddenly fucking hate the colour pink."

"Yeah..." Harry sighed, looking at the imprint at every different angle there was.

"Our blood was practically the ink, that's sick!" she repulsed.

"Hey, I gotta go back to the Gryffindor Common Room okay? See you tomorrow," he waved, still clutching his left hand over his other one.

Flora slowly waved, she stared at him until he was out of sight. She strolled through the corridor, turning right near the Ravenclaw tower but instead was distracted by some girl giggling, hidden with a deep voice telling her to be quiet.

The young brunette girl slowly peered down the hallway that had met with the one she was already in. She noticed a dark-haired girl and the same icy blonde-haired boy from the party, making out and disturbing her eyes with their wandering hands.

_Gits._   
  
  



	6. 𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

**SHE KNEW WHY WAS SORTED INTO RAVENCLAW.** It was not only for the intelligence from her father but more of a creative fit from her mother. Odelia Cates loved being in Ravenclaw when she was sorted at Hogwarts, from the years 1965 to 1972 and had always loved the royal flowery feel of the common room and since then had incorporated some of the designs into their cottage home.

The cottage was isolated filled with floral and delicate designs on the wooden walls and rose thorns, across the entire exterior of the cottage. The garden beds lay out in the front of the entrance, enticing friendly guests and visitors. The home was near Hackfall, woodland area in North Yorkshire, hidden from Death Eaters and dark magic.

Ever since Nicholas Cates was tortured and killed in front of the family in the coastal town of Falmouth, Cornwall. Odelia decided that it was best for her to resign from magic and brought her children to live the very same cottage that they now call home.

Florina's mother wasn't lonely, in fact, she still had Melia, the youngest one and the baby of the family, only ten years old too. The Cates' siblings were homeschooled before getting their letters like all magical children, taught about Muggles and some magical qualities that they inherited. Preparing for either a life in the Muggle world or the Magical world.

The brunette girl reminisced about her enchanting cottage and had completely forgotten that she zoned out during morning feast as Ziva snapped and clapped in front of the sleepy girl.

"What arrre youu thinking about?" she dazedly asked, smiling softly as she placed her head on top of her hands.

"My home, a cottage."

"Ooo you must take us!" Ziva grabbed Luna's shoulder to a tight hug and lifted her thumb.

"Yes, must!"

"Christmas holidays then," Flora announced, sipping on some orange juice that sat still in her chalice for what seemed like a few hours.

"Perfect!" Luna clapped.

"Hello!" An angelic voice behind Luna and Flora said, Ziva's face lit up as she saw the pretty Hufflepuff girl.

"Sephonie!"

Persephone Rosewood was a sixth year Hufflepuff student, a good longtime friend of Ziva and Blaise. She had a striking charm on people and an aura of kindness, her hair was as dark as the emptiness of the outermost night sky away from the light. Her freckles were light and especially when they were spotted amongst her light complexion, she was of Japanese descent, mother being a witch and her father being a muggle. She was humble, never liked associating herself with Slytherins' except for Blaise Zabini and Eulalie Dagon.

"Zivy, Luna!.." Persephone turned her head slightly to face the brunette girl and smiled, "I'm sorry, I don't think that we've met before. My name's Persephone," she laid out her hand.

"I'm Florina."

"When did you arrive at Hogwarts?" asked Ziva.

"Late last night. My mum told Dumbledore that I was arriving at least a week late for the start of the school year so he can't take any house points off," she glanced around the warmly lit Hall, her eyes coming to a halt as she saw a girl sitting in the Slytherin table. "I see Lulu is starting to warm up to Draco."

"She's been kind of distant from us lately. Won't even talk to me and if she does, I'll probably hear it from Blaise."

"Who's Lulu?" Flora asked.

"Strawberry blonde girl in the Slytherin robes next to Draco," The dark girl answered, all four of them glanced towards the golden ginger haired girl, unnoticed to their stares.

"Her real name is Eulalie-"

"Dagon. Yeah I've heard of her, Calliope's sister right?"

Eulalie Dagon, a fifth year student in Slytherin, kind of be a prissy bitch. Her strawberry blonde hair radiated a coppery red with a hint of warm golden blonde, her eyes were a deep shade of blue, like the farthest blue in the ocean from the shore. She had a thick layer of makeup that covered her gorgeous light freckles from her pale complexion.

"I wonder how long it'll take her to notice us if we stare at her.." Ziva suggested.

"Oh Zivy stop, you'll creep her out!"

"Good. That bitch hasn't said one word to me at all this year. We were best friends last year and suddenly I'm like Peeves," she shrugged her shoulders back, reclining back on the bench as several ghosts floated past. A walk through a ghost could leave you with a body temperature of below zero degrees and in shock.

"Hi I'm Ziva Nuala Zabini But you can juuust call meee Zeeevee," Peeves ascended from below the centre of the Ravenclaw table, reciting the words she spoke from yesterdays interaction.

"Oh Peeves, what do you want?"

"I want for you to apologise!" he demanded.

"No. I didn't even do anything wrong."

"Aha! That just calls for a surprise water balloon attack, but instead of water it'll be troll bogey," the blue poltergeist took out a balloon that was of a deep red shade, the contents inside were slowly filling with a dark liquid.

"No! No Peeves! Don't. You. Dare!"

"Well, that's my cue to leave," Persephone patted the girl's head and walked towards the Hufflepuff table, not wanting to get troll bogey on herself.

"Apologise, or you'll make me cry," he dropped a sad face, Flora could've sworn that it was drooped, stretching down to the floor.

"Peeves?" Flora said.

_Florina remembered her mother telling her and her siblings stories about the notorious Peeves, the poltergeist that caused chaos._

"Peeves? Who's Peeves? Madam Cates," he floated slightly towards the brunette girl, pulling out flowers from his palm. _Magic._

"Madam!?" Ziva scoffed, "Why are you suddenly being all classy?"

"Why I have always been! Thy roses were-"

"Cut the Shakespeare act," she leaned closer and rolled her eyes. "I wanna know why you ratted me out when I snuck out of the common room."

"I do not know of such thing," he cheekily grinned and subtly winked at the other two girls.

"I know it was you and when I get you back-"

"Listen here missy, I never saw anything but if you want to blame someone or something, I suggest those two-faced, clandestine, stupid portraits that are unbelievably wonky on the walls. I blame Filch for the placements," his body thrusted close to the dark girl, intense stares were noticeable to everyone around.

"Fine, you have a free pass this time Peeves but I'll catch you," she flashed a tongue out to the poltergeist, sighing as he tipped his invisible 'top hat' and grinned.

"And ya little dog too!" Peeves happily floated out of the Hall, gliding through students as they squealed.

"What?"

"It's a movie reference, I think. Bit ironic actually," Flora relaxed her body, knowing that Peeves didn't drop anything gross onto the food. Her dark brown eyes scanned the Hall, students laughing and smiling as they sat in their assigned Houses. Her eyes stumbled on a tall browned haired boy, entering the Great Hall with his Quidditch mates.

"Movie? Since when do... never mind," The dark girl rolled her eyes, grabbing a few slices of tomatoes from the corner of Luna.

"Oh. My. God," Flora hastily stood up, focusing her eyes on that particular Slytherin boy, not Eros. "Adrian," she gasped.

"Oh yeah, Pucey," Ziva noticed the tall dark haired boy, greeting his mates as he sat down next to Eros. He looked like he had been down at the Quidditch pitch, warm sweat trickled down from his forehead gently.

Flora briskly walked around the Slytherin table, coming up behind him as she placed her arms around his neck and shoulders. Her head laid peacefully on top of his fluffed out hair, it was soft and comforting but also a bit damp from sweat.

"Baby!" he turned around to face her excited eyes, not turning away as he stood up and hugged the smaller girl.

"I can't believe that you didn't notice that I transferred to Hogwarts!" Flora released from his tight hug and pointed into his chest, grinning lightly.

"I did. I was just so busy with Quidditch, I'll make it up to you Yeah?"

"No, you keep practicing."

"Are you saying I'm bad at Quidditch?" He positioned his head to face the younger Cates sibling, connecting his pale hand with hers.

"No! I-"

"I'm only joking," Adrian chortled, hugging her once more, lasting for approximately a whole minute, placing his head onto the crown of hers.

Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were infuriated and disturbed, watching the Ravenclaw and Slytherin students being affectionate towards each other. Flora knew that Adrian only saw her as a little sister, it didn't mean anything like that.

"Ahem!" Pansy Parkinson interrupted the pair, all eyes surrounded them. "Are we interrupting something or what?"

"No," Eros snapped. He hated the idea of his sister getting with his friends or anyone else from the Slytherin house. He knew the sort of people who were in Slytherin, not to mention their father too, who took too much pride in Slytherin.

"It seemed pretty intense actually... for a sixteen and eighteen year old..."

"I'm seventeen actually," she fact-checked the Slytherin girl. Actually, Florina wasn't turning seventeen until it was October and that was easier to say than 'sixteen turning seventeen.'

"Right..."

  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  


"So we have a double free together, would you like to go somewhere?"

"I would love to see everything in the castle actually," Florina slightly swung her hips, cupping her hands as they intertwined with each other in a begging position.

"Honey, that's going to take a lot more than those periods-" she stopped, looking at the brunette girl with such a puppy dog face and sighed, "y'know what, I can get it done in those times."

"What made you-"

"Hey new girl!" A voice behind the two girls called out, a voice that belonged to none other than Pansy Parkinson.

"Parkinson.." Ziva crossed her arms and repeatedly stammered her foot against the cold stone castle floor. Pansy was nice if you got on her good side, Ziva reminded the girl that it was best if you didn't befriend her anyway.

"About the other night, at the party? I realised that we've gotten off to a bad start and I just want to say sorry. It was really harsh of me to blame you for spilling your drink onto me," she nodded, slowly smiling softly as she moved her hand over to her chest... sort of a fainted understanding.

"You are? Oh, umm it's okay," Flora didn't believe that, however, she still had to keep up her 'sweet but innocent' new girl vibe.

"Great! Friends?"

"Sure..?"

"Meet in the Three Broomsticks in twenty? I have a free, Blaise and Theo will be there," before the black haired girl with the fringe moved towards where she was heading, she turned to Ziva and grinned. "You can come to if you want but that's only because your brother is.... well let's just say..." Pansy proceeded to smack her lips in the air as if she were kissing the empty space before leaving the pair.

"You are so naive to accept that," the dark curly haired girl stared at the girl, leaving with Theo, who was slightly laughing with her.

"It might be interesting... and entertaining?"

"The dirt, I like that. Let's go then?" she stuck out her hand, waiting for the brunette girl to latch on so they could skip towards the town, Luna style of course.

The pair of Ravenclaw students took their time to Hogsmeade. Ziva showed the brunette girl all the facilities and environment around the castle, resting on the ground for ten minutes and enjoying the warm air and tiny insects that overlooked them. They had completely forgotten about the meetup in the Three Broomsticks in that short amount of time. 10:25, was the time that they had arrived into the Three Broomsticks, it was five minutes after the agreed time.

"You're late," The dark haired girl with the fringe repeatedly stamped her foot against the wooden floor and crossed her arms.

"Wow, are we in class or something?" Ziva joked, pulling out her chair as she sat next to Flora, across from Pansy, Blaise and Theo.

"Whatever," she scoffed. "Anyways... I think you all know why you're here!"

"Not really."

"Theo, are you daft? Draco took a step up in our relationship..." Pansy remarked. The Zabini siblings looked at each other with deep regret for why they had attended this meeting. "I can totally see marriage at 17."

"What the fuck," Ziva whispered to Florina, rolling her eyes and slanted back into her wooden chair, which was still a little dusty.

"You're joking right?" The brunette girl could feel small warm droplets of butterbeer being splashed on her, as Blaise gasped at the 'marriage at 17.'

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Draco would never do that," Theo shrugged, leaning closer to his butterbeer.

"Wait, why am I here?"

"Because, Florpa-"

"Flora," she interrupted, correcting the way that Pansy had said her name.

"That's what I said?" Pansy squinted, furrowing her eyebrows as she stared at the brunette girl. "Anyways! You have experience in Slytherin boys."

"You literally have two right next to you..." she pointed to the two boys, eyeing each other and smiling.

"Wow bitchy attitude... when did it arrive? After you slithered your way into people's hearts... with your little 'nice girl' act?" The way that Pansy just laughed after she said that, proved how she portrays herself onto others.

"What?"

"How do you know Adrian? You've been here for what... a week? How do you know so many Slytherins'" Pansy and Theo we're intrigued, hankered to know more about the brunette's relation to Adrian and Eros.

"I've known him since I was little... I guess. I mean, I don't know what you want me to say?" That was true, Florina had known Adrian for years now, he never cared about blood supremacy. He respected Odelia like she was his own mother, after all, why would you hate on a person who has made you feel safe.

"You definitely fucked him."

"Fucking hell Pansy!" Blaise could feel the thought of him about to face palm himself, annoyed with Pansy's remarks and ignorance.

"Are you accusing me of sex? That's pretty lame," she noticed her constant cry for attention, blasting the intense histrionic behaviour onto people.

"How many people have you shagged just to get them to be your friend? I'm just asking... it's pretty interesting," Pansy continued on, egging it on even further.

"None."

"Hmm." She leaned closer towards the brunette girl and smiled, "did you shag Cedric too?"

Flora could've used an unforgivable curse on her, however, it would've been a hassle to deal with teachers and literally the law. Cedric would've been disappointed in her... sure he'd be proud of some revenge but not as far as killing someone. Instead, she decided to walk away, maybe next time she'll get that very same opportunity.

"Did you really invite her just to accuse her of whatever it is?!" Blaise stared at the dark haired girl, her fringe covered some areas near her eyes.

"It's called, knowing who your enemies are.."

"You fucking cunt," Ziva Zabini slammed her chair into the table, pointing her middle finger to the Slytherin girl and apologising to Madam Rosmerta on the way out.


	7. 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆

**THE CLOCK TOWER COURTYARD,** a particular area that students would walk and sit around the flora natured fountain. It was the brunette's favourite spot, reading her books or studying while she placed her hand swiftly through the flowing movements of the spring water.

Eros Cates noticed his little sister alone, smiling down at her copy of ' _Break with a Banshee,'_ by Gilderoy Lockhart. The dark-haired boy carefully sat next to her, examining the contents from a chapter and rolling his eyes at the bogus story.

"This is so fake," she announced, swiping through the pages and flicking endlessly.

"It is. If you read anything that is written by Gilderoy Lockhart... it's fake," Eros snatched the book, looking at the contents filled with false yarns.

"Right, but wasn't he a Professor here?"

"Yeah, until he went loopy," his fingers swirled around near the top of head. "I broke up with Calliope," he uttered.

"Why?"

"I found her with Cassius," he paused. "I know what you're gonna say... 'I told you so.'"

"Actually no, I'm not that petty," urging to hold back the thought of laughing but she always thought that Cassius was a bit suspicious.

"Are you sure? You've been too nice since you've been here," he implied that it wasn't her usual personality.

"I'm trying to gain friends, not enemies. Apparently that hasn't been working out too well," sighs escaped her mouth. At least she met Ziva and Luna, sharing a dorm room with them was a miracle.

"If you're talking about Pansy-"

"Yep."

"Adrian is pissed off at her and Draco. He said that you'd never do those things to get friends," Eros placed the book down onto her lap, examining the fountain structure.

"At least I have someone."

"And me. Promise that you won't get into trouble here like you did in Beauxbatons," he glazed over her, standing up in the process.

"Yeah sure."

"I'm serious, you can't pull a fucking stunt like you did last year!"

"Alright!"

Bundles of students began to head inside, droplets of rain had contrived their way down to the pavement after the sun had only been out for a second. The weather was hardly warm, instead, tints of grey filled the sky and the atmosphere had dropped a few temperatures.

A tear of rain was sought to find a way in after a splash onto the colourful mosaic tinted windows, followed by many more sky tears. Florina Cates rushed, heavily stepping into the corridors to put her books away before trekking to the Great Hall for dinner. The only function of the Ravenclaw tower she hated were the stairs, it felt as if she were working her legs to the bone with all the stairs, of course there was magic but magic too does take energy.

"Fuck, I regret being sorted into Ravenclaw," she entered the common room, placing herself onto the velvet couch, a slightly darker midnight shade.

"It's not too bad, I mean the stairs is the only con but I love it," Ziva glanced to and from the brunette girl and her book that she had picked up five minutes ago.

"That's true."

"I told Pansy that she was a ' _fucking cunt,'_ when you left the Inn," giggling with glee and proud too. She'd always wanted to slap her smug face, probably earning a detention along with it but it would've been worth it.

"You did? I wish I stayed a little more to hear that," sighing once more.

"Blaise also told me that she was attacking you because Draco looked at you. He literally looked at you for a split second and she's mad, obsessive much?"

"Is that guy always rude?"

"Yeah, I mean it's Malfoy. All of them are," she rolled her eyes.

"I had a bad encounter with him in the dungeon, didn't even bother to help me up," Flora recounted the other day, the day where she spent minutes or what felt like hours trying to find the Slytherin room.

"Yeah that sounds like him. The little shit thinks he owns the school... his parents are rich so they actually could possibly own the school," Ziva looked around the room, making sure that none of his friends were around to hear while poking her tongue out.

"Asshole."

"Do you wanna go to dinner?"

"Yes."

Ziva procured the brunette's hand, pacing slowly down from midnight blue room to the bottom of the tower. The castle corridors were dimly lit, it was a quarter after five and the Hall began to fill with students and mutters. The girls walked hand in hand through the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables, it was until a seventh year Slytherin boy called out to them.

"Are you two dating or what?" Graham Montague eyed the two girls, grinning heavily with his other mates.

"Oi fuck off Montague!" Ziva flipped him off. Her middle finger extended out towards him for at least a good minute before they found a free spot at the table. "Just ignore him."

"Why so popular Ziva?" Marietta Edgecombe jested, a Ravenclaw girl with a deep looking red curly hair and hints of blonde strands.

"Stupid Slytherin boys."

"Agreed," Flora muttered, glancing towards the Slytherin table, a house that she glad she wasn't placed in. She'd always wonder how her brother was able to stay in that house without going, at least somewhat insane.

"Hey, you better not be calling me stupid?" Adrian Pucey snuck up behind the brunette girl, cradling her head while resting his on top.

"Stupid Slytherin boys... except for Adrian Pucey. Better?" Ziva rephrased.

"Much," he smiled before leaning towards Florina. "Hey, I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?"

"Just meet in front of the Great Hall at 11pm, Yeah?"

"Yeah alright," her lips parted, waving him off as he sped towards the Slytherin table.

"I'm starting to think that you two are dating.." the dark curly haired girl placed her head onto the middle palm of her hand.

"No, my brother hates it when I try to get with his friends."  
  
  


━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  


Ten forty-five, the time that Florina emerged from her dormitory, creeping on the velvet midnight blue carpets that separated the tiled floors from the wooden planks. If she were to keep pacing to the Great Hall in sloth style then she would be there at the exact time.

Flora was a night person, she disliked the mornings, basically nocturnal at this point. A shadow washed over the halls, light beaming brightly as Filch moved his way from hallway to hallway, she was careful to not get caught. The final set of stairs from the Grand Staircase took her exactly to where she was headed, the Great Hall and sure enough, Adrian was standing in the corner.

_Eleven o'clock._

"You actually arrived... on time? That's a surprise," he whispered, towering over her.

"True. So, what's THE surprise?"

"I forgot you are impatient," he held onto her right hand, guiding her from the front entrance of the castle and to the Forbidden Forest.

"Are you going to murder me or something?"

His chuckle echoed throughout the forest, stepping carefully on the rugged path and snapping twigs on the way. "You also developed a sense humour."

"I've always had one. You only saw me just last year.."

"True."

"Are we almost there or.." Flora looked around, the misty grey air from the fog began to slowly swallow the trees, covering the ground too.

"You're not falling asleep are you?" His grasp tightened, constantly shifting his eyes to and from the brunette girl.

"No, this forest gives me a bad feeling," shivers escalated quickly down her body, the crisp air proceeded to drop down a few temperatures.

"A bunch of murders happened here," Adrian said.

"Are you serious? Stop scaring me!"

"I'm not joking.. maybe a little exaggerated.."

A stadium shape arose from the distance, closer towards the stadium, Flora thought she'd recognise the shape and because Eros always talked about it.

"The Quidditch Pitch?"

"Yep."

The entrance from the storage tent under the stands, each decorated with the colours of each house, flapped open when Adrian muttered soft words. A green decorated broom was situated on the side of the wall, she wasn't quite sure if it was a Nimbus or a Firebolt broom.

"Come," The dark haired boy swiftly entered the arena, it was huge, massive even. Each golden pales with hoops were located evenly between each other, sixteen stands had circled the middle and rows of low seats for the students sat in the middle of the high stands. "Now, I know how much you've always wanted to learn to play Quidditch and ride brooms..."

"Wait, really?"

"Hop on," he held the broom in a levitating position, holding it still as she got on. Steadying the broom as her mind filled with intentions on keeping the broom up. "Remember, balance is key."

"You're not getting on with me?"

"Do you want me to?" Adrian asked, still gripping his hand to the handle.

"I mean yeah, safety precaution... y'know?"

"That's true, alright then. I'll be right behind you Okay?" he secured himself behind the brunette, 

"You're making me nervous now," her hands trembling, shivering with the feel of the broomstick wood.

"Sorry, I'll just let you direct it now."

The broom slowly began to ascend, lifting off from the ground and towards the freezing Troposphere. It was a metre or two off the ground before she got cold feet, the kind that you get when you feel very iffy about something.

"Nope, I can't."

"What?"

"I can't do it, it's too high," shaking her head while she tightly shut her eyes.

"We're like a metre off the ground?.."

"I can't do it."

"Okay, Okay! Move your body down at the tip of the broom handle and it will descend," he instructed while pointing.

Before the broom could touch the ground, Adrian helped the girl off from the device, holding it with one hand. "Are you good?"

"Could you.. maybe show me how to ride it?"

"Yeah of course!" Adrian holstered himself on, wrapping his hands around the wooden broomstick handle. "Get on behind me."

"Are you serious?"

"How are you supposed to learn when you're all the way down here and not in the air?" _he did have a good point._

"I guess you're right..." she hesitantly mounted herself back onto the broom, this time she sat right behind the tall Slytherin boy.

"You can hold onto me okay?"

"So if I fall, I'm taking you with me," her hands wrapped around his body, feeling the warmth of his jumper against her.

"Not gonna happen," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Because when you fall, I'll be the one catching you."

"Okay 'Prince Charming,'" Flora jested, sarcastically rolling her eyes at the cheesy but cute comment that he made.

"Prince Charming? Is he hot?"

"What?"

"Is Prince Charming good looking? If you're calling me that, he has to be hot right?" Adrian leaned back, glancing at her, however, the broom too drifted upwards.

"Yeah... sure."

Florina felt herself floating in midair, the broomstick ascended slowly as Adrian affirmed some encouraging words, easing the girl a bit. "You just hold on tight if you need to."

Her nods confirmed the flight, closing her eyes as the wind force struck her in the face, pacing from the fast start to a slower one, gradually adding to the speed as she got more comfortable. It was colder high in the air than it was when she was on the floor, sprinkles of water began to dust her skin. Her dark brown hair danced through the wind, flapping crazily around her face while she tried to hold on and move the dark strands.

"THIS IS FUN RIGHT!?" Adrian called out, his voice hidden in the wind movement.

"UMM, STILL GETTING USED TO IT!"

She couldn't understand how Quidditch players were so used to flying on brooms, it was   
extremely uncomfortable between her legs. Perhaps, she could get used to it if she tried out for the Ravenclaw team, but that was maybe the only con for her. .

The atmospheric temperature proceeded to drop even more, the chance of rain was getting higher with every minute they stayed on the broomstick. The dark haired boy leaned towards the front of the broom, carefully but gently descending the device towards the floor. He steadied it, grounding himself in support of getting her off without falling onto the muddy ground.

"So, how was it?"

"It was... a bit uncomfortable but it was actually fun. Thank You for that," the girl's smile widened.

"I know how much you've always wanted to do this so I'm willing to help you to get on the Ravenclaw team," his liberality on giving the girl a chance to achieve something greater was outstanding and comforting.

"You're joking!"

"Nope."

"Thank You, Thank You!" His body strung back, feeling her wrapped arms around his shoulder, warm bodies colliding with each other. Despite the droplets of rain splashing onto their skin, he still held her into a tight hug before releasing from her grasp.

Their eyes squinted as the rain heavily populated the air, not focusing on anything else but each other. Kissing in the rain was a top thing to do on her bucket list, ' _sure Adrian was Eros's friend but he wouldn't tell.'_ Her soft hands began to slowly prune, cupping his face as she leaned towards his lips, connecting them together.

It was wet, the kiss was wet and so was everything that surrounded them. Out of all of Eros's friends, Adrian was her favourite, he was comical, respectful and doesn't like the Pure Blood supremacy.

"Do you want to go back to the castle?" he puffed.

Two o'clock, three hours after eleven and the time they had arrived back to the castle. They sundered from each other, getting back to their own house common rooms. 


	8. 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐇𝐘 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW | Death of a Pet - little gory details (e.g. blood and etc)

**THE MONDAY MORNING OF** the last week of September felt aggravating to the brunette, mostly because Cedric wasn't there to celebrate the end of her first month at Hogwarts. By means, why would anyone celebrate the first month of the school year, first-years perhaps?

She wasn't quite the morning girl, a ray of glinted sunlight had struck her face, warming her body temperature as she jolted awake. Five in the morning and she had gotten to bed at two and with three hours of sleep, she felt as if she dreading school.

Perhaps a morning jog would subdue the pain and make her feel more awake, however, anything was better than running.

She packed on a singular top and leggings to motivate her in the mood and began to tie her hair into a middle to low ponytail, her strands falling into place. She toed her way around the dormitory, not waking up Ziva before leaving to go down the stairs, however, Luna wasn't found to be in the dorm room. Luna Lovegood had probably snuck out bare feet to feed the creatures of the Dark Forest, Merlin knows how many there are.

Starting from the wooden bridge that led to Hagrid's hut, she made her way around the edge of the Forbidden Forest. With dawn just approaching, she noticed the forest was particularly dark and cold in areas that she stayed far from. How brave Luna was to be wondering aimlessly throughout the forest, Flora was still only new so she hadn't known much about the area and Scotland.

"So creepy," she uttered, barely leaving a hushed whisper tone nor smiling at the trees that rustled and the wind that was whistling every ten seconds.

The rocky path trail with grains of raggedy stones had led her down near the Whomping Willow, an ancient Willow tree that was on the castle grounds for many years. She paced herself on the trail, however, falling forward towards the ground when her foot had been caught by a bending stick that was shaped like a semicircle, each ends were dug deep into the soil. Flora carefully lifted her arms, scraped up like scratches with blood gushing out from the wounds, she carefully raised her wand that had been hidden deep in her pocket.

" _Episkey,"_ she muttered.

"Ouch that looked like it hurt," a daring deep voice came from the side of a nearby tree, leaves crunching as the footsteps came closer.

"Ha ha, laugh at me will you," Florina steadied herself, holding onto Adrian's cold hands as he leaned in to help her up.

"How come you're up so early?"

"Running and I could ask you the same thing?"

"Quidditch practice," he held up his broom.

"Of course."

"Will you come watch?" The dark haired boy asked, grinning down at the younger Cates' sibling.

"Watch what?"

"The practice? I'd really appreciate it," he said with extreme puppy eyes, the face everyone produces when they want something badly.

"Sure, why not. I really want to see you get knocked down anyways," she shrugged, her tanned complexion radiated through the zestful sun rays.

"You know I could easily knock you down."

"You don't even have to try," her smile deepened, clutching onto his jumper as he already had struggled with carrying his other equipment.

The pair had walked from the Whomping Willow towards the Quidditch pitch, heavy talks came from inside the stands. The Slytherin team were scattered around the stadium, warming up as they held onto their brooms. Inside the stands, Adrian placed down his equipment, telling Florina to sit in the grandstands.

"What the fuck is she doing here Pucey?" Draco's whispers were faint but it was enough for the brunette girl to hear.

"Watching the practice. Do you have a problem with that Malfoy?" Concerned glances began to shine onto the blond boy, infuriating him in the process.

"Yes, Why is a Ravenclaw watching Slytherin practices huh?"

"You're extremely bothered by this... do you have a little crush?" Adrian teased, not thinking anymore of it.

_Draco doesn't fancy anyone... they fancy him. He'll fuck everyone over, especially girls, girls that he'd sleep with._

"Oi fuck off you annoying git!" His long middle finger flashed the dark haired boy, annoyed with his presence as he barged out of the stands.. towards the quidditch pitch.

"Adrian, why is my si- I mean why is Flora here?"

"How many times do I have to say 'watching the practice.' Is it a crime?"

"No... it's not," Eros shrugged, neatly curving his finger tips over the wooden handle of his Firebolt broomstick.   
  
  
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Potions class with Snape, by far, the funniest class she'd ever taken. Hexes and jinxes beaming around the room, potions being blown up by none other than Seamus Finnigan and Severus Snape wearing a particular maroon velvet feathered hat with flecks of gold that a student from Gryffindor transfigured.

"I want no funny business from any of you. Take out your equipment for the potion making," he entered, unbothered by everyone in the room as he charged to the front. His black shade of obsidian robe began to flow behind, whipping and flying as his force rushed on.

"At least we are partners huh?" Ziva whispered.

"Not today, Miss Zabini," he trudged closer, looking at the eyes of all the pupils. "Miss Zabini, you can go with.. Crabbe," he pointed.

"Kill me now," she whispered to the brunette, rolling her eyes as she moved her equipment towards Vincent Crabbe.

"Miss Cates, you can go with Mr. Malfoy," she glanced up at the annoyed ice blond haired boy, eyes furrowed, following her as she moved from table to table.

Grunts and groans were heard from every single student that were partnered with everyone who they'd never be friends or mutuals with.

_'Stupid, annoying little children..' he probably thought._

Florina flicked through the contents of the book, concentrating as she turned to the instructed page, a detailed recipe for the _'Wit-Sharpening Potion.'_ She listed down the ingredients of the chapter, a starting point to add Ginger Roots until it had turned a lime green.

_"_ Draco, could you pass the ginger roots?"

"I'm not Draco to you," he scoffed.

"Excuse me?" The girl was shook, she had no idea why the boy acted so rudely to her, perhaps it was just his personality.

"I'm not your friend, do not fucking refer to me as ' _Draco_ ,' it's Malfoy or get lost," he sat, eyeing every feature of her until she felt unnerved by him.

" _Malfoy,_ can you just get the ginger roots?"

" _No_."

"W-What? Why not?" Stammering her words, frustrated with blond boy's dickhead behaviour, it wasn't cute of him.

"You pissed me off. Get it yourself," he quipped.

"This is a partner activity," her slim hands rested on top of the thick content filled book, tapping with each agitated feeling that she had endured from the boy.

"I didn't ask to be your partner, I'm not making this dumb potion."

"If you don't make it, you fail," Flora suspired, following her finger tips towards the ginger roots and cutting them up.

"Then.. I'll just blame you. Snape loves me," he jeered, quieting down as he looked away and towards the flickering light coming from Crabbe. It looked as if Ziva also wasn't having any of the other Slytherin boys' behaviour.

"What's your problem?"

"My problem is that I don't want to work with some annoying Ravenclaw whose brother is a snobby dickhead of a quidditch captain and an ignorant Head Boy," he whispered, arguably, the most annoying Slytherin boy there was.

"My brother?... I don't have one-"

" _Cates?_ Eros Cates, Flora Cates.... seems to have the same last name.... same features." Draco seemed to notice that she wasn't an only child, but more so her facial features had matched her brother's too.

"You're seriously a git, you're taking this out on me... because you don't like my brother?"

"I didn't like your stupid little attitude towards me during that one party.."

"Are you going to get the ingredients or not?" Her conversation steered away from his rants and towards the schoolwork, the work that should've been progressive.

"Not."

"Are you two done?" Snape interrupted, all eyes were completely still on them, noticing the pair bickering for minutes on end. "If you two hadn't noticed... everyone already finished their potions. Detention for the both of you!"

"Professor-"

"Yes, even you Malfoy."

"What's that?..." Florina placed her right hand near her ear, motioning a listening ear. "Maybe Snape doesn't adore you after all... because he realised how much of a daft imbecile you are."

"How dare you talk to me like that... you filthy-"

"Filthy Pure-blood? You have no insults against me." Hearing Flora refer to herself as a _'Pure-blood'_ did hurt. She liked being a Half-blood but she had to keep it like that so Eros could uphold his best reputation... being a Slytherin Quidditch Captain and Head Boy.  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  


Four o'clock. The students of Hogwarts had an hour free time before dinner time, unfortunately Flora's hour was disrupted by Snape's detention. The detention that Malfoy had insisted by his shitty attitude and lack of respect.

"I can not tell you how stupid Crabbe is," Ziva ranted, hatred words spewed from her mouth about Draco's daft minions.

"Yeah don't tell me."

"Maybe the Killing Curse should be legalised..."

"That's funny," Luna clapped, chuckles softly escaped her mouth as she looked longingly at both of the Ravenclaw girls. "Was it not a joke?"

"Oh Luna, I love you." Luna's face brightened, heart filled with love and butterflies and smiles erupted. Luna Lovegood had a crush and Flora could see it, even after she had told her about her attraction to Ziva.

_Ziva, perhaps had not felt that sting yet._

"I'll see you two back at the common room, I have that detention to go to," Flora halted, looking back at the Grand Staircase and remembering to walk down to the dungeon corridors.

The warming hallways of the castle began to chill when she had arrived in the Potions classroom, eerie silence as she opened the door to reveal Professor Snape talking to Draco. She must've been hallucinating or deceived if she heard Snape mention Voldemort's name abundant in mid conversation.

_Mentioned five times..._

"Sit there," he instructed. The tip of his grimed nails pointed to an isolated desk, it was far from Draco's and practically was on the other side of him. He turned to Draco, snickering as he gave him a piece of parchment paper, "write ' _I will pay attention in class and not be such an insolent student.'"_

"What kind of detention is that?" Draco asked coldly.

"As for you Miss. Cates, I have something else in mind for you." Severus Snape whipped to his desk, pulling out a covered ingredient with the meat juices seeping through. It reeked, reeked of a dead animal.. something dead, stench soaking throughout the classroom.

_A familiar hint of 'Dimethyl Disulfide' and putrid rotten meat emitted out._

He gently placed the unknown thing on her desk, proceeding to smile maliciously as he walked towards the door. "I'll be back. Oh and Miss Cates, you have until five o'clock to obtain something I hid in that," he said before leaving the two in silence.

Whatever was hidden and covered inside the tissues wasn't going to be good, perhaps a stomach turn or loss of appetite. The brunette girl removed the few layers of tissues to find a rotten corpse, black fur and skinned with bits of tissues soaked inside. Draco watched on as he realised that it was the dead carcass of a black cat, the ears were torn off and not a bone in sight... just mush.

_How traumatic it was to face such a sight._

_The sight of her dead cat._

"I guess... since my detention is easy, maybe Snape does adore me," Draco said with great glee, disdained even.

Florina sat still, wide eyes staring down at the animal, contemplating if her decision at studying at Hogwarts was worth it. It certainly wasn't worth staring down at your pile of mush of a pet whom had died only last year, she was old but memories had conjured back. Rippled throughout her mind as she held up her wand, ready to pick through the tissues and masses of rusted blood, black with hints of freshly oozing blood red liquids. Dried petals, dipped in blood had been soaked within the frail body, her favourite ones were mostly the white ivory tulips, now covered in crimson.

As a small child, she had befriended a stray kitten, taking it in as if she were her own and later taking care of her when she did legally become a mother of the kitten. A black cat named _Sage,_ her fur radiated a coat of void black with subtle hints of velvet red in the sunlight.

Poking the tip of her wand at the fur, which had looked exactly like Sage's... even down to the blue spot that she had accidentally placed when she was ten, it was her but it wasn't real.

_Was it?_

Her family had buried the kitten in a minted green box, filled with petals of crimson red roses, ivory tulips and a flashing purple 'Amethyst' shade of lavenders... fresh ones.

_How did Snape know about Sage? How would he have known about her to bewitch such things._

"Why aren't you picking at it?" Draco interrupted, protecting his nose from the smell of death, the death of Sage Eira Cates. Yes, the cat had a full name, it was cruel to not get her a proper name just as if she were in the family.

"I-I can't."

"I-I," he mocked. "It's just a stupid dead cat."

"My dead cat."

"Okay? So....." the blond boy hadn't cared one bit about the cat, he hated furry creatures since the ferret incident— calls them rodents.

Heavy footsteps began to flood the dungeon corridors, echoing around the classroom as the blond boy whipped his head to face the filled parchment. Snape barged in, glazing over the brunette girl's shoulder, disappointed looks began to slowly appear on his pale face.

"Pity, you can't even do a simple task."

"I refuse," she looked away as he carried the carcass out of her sight, diffusing the air with clear smells, more like the smell of a newly cleaned classroom.

"That'll earn you another detention," he hastily remarked, slowly pivoting to face both of the students. "You two can go."  
  



	9. 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐊

**TALL FIGURED SHADOWS CASTED** amongst her walls, the moonlight had sweept in through the titchy cracks of the blue tinted windows. Her bed peacefully rested, adjoined with the brick wall that had carved a deep shade of Royal blue in a swish across the wall. The rectangular window with an arched top across from her, zestful with moon energy had situated in between hers and Luna's.

Excessive dried and fresh coagulated blood, muscle tissues and flabby mush began to flood her mind, taken back to the day she had an up close examination of her cat. It had fuelled into her nightmares, roused from the vivid dark imagery, once she had an image — it was impossible to let go.

_She'd Thank Severus Snape for that._

Ziva Zabini woke, her throat tightened from the lack of water consumption and struggling to swallow her own dry saliva. She carried a metal flask, filled mostly with water and sometimes even alcoholic beverages. The dark haired girl grabbed onto the bottle, bony fingers wrapping around the hardened material as she drank every last drop before glancing at the brunette girl.

Florina dug her head into her knees, clutching her kneecaps as if she were hugging it in an uncomfortable way. _It was_. Her head stooped low, focusing her glaze and energy onto the moon, the flashiest orb in the skylight of twinkled stars and an empty void space.

"You're awake?" Ziva asked, the streaky sound of her hoarse toned voice tried to speak aloud.

"Can't sleep."

"Why?"

"Disturbed thoughts," she breathed, sighs escaping and filling the cold air that surrounded the perturbed brunette girl.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nah, I think I'll just go to the bathroom," her body lifted from the silken deep royal blue sheets, messed with the prints from herself. The girl's peignoir draped in place, the translucent chiffon material of a champagne pink flowed softly with the fur fringe trim. Her matching satin chemise complimented her complexion, it being gifted from Fleur Delacour on her last day at Beauxbatons — Paris, one of the popular fashion capitals.

"Alright, I'll be here. I'll probably fall back asleep though," she mumbled, middle of her yawns.

The arched door with a dark raven blue, deep in the cracks of the wooden texture had creaked open and filled the hushed silence with more noise. Her fingertips felt the pavement, stone carved with golden specs and surrounded the circular common room.

A melody of warming enchanting music flooded the hallway, a seventh year girl had enchanted the room to play a Siren melody, easing the intense feel of the frigid tower. The tune had sweetened the air, clearing it from the misty rain scents indulged in stained parchments and lone books.

Florina walked her way down the staircase, steep stone steps circled around a grey pillar with hints of marble— a fancy likeness.

A pair of large pale freckled hands wrapped around her wrist, dragging her into a darkened hallway, free from the illuminated corridors. Another pair, different from the hands that had grabbed her, covered her mouth, waiting until the hallway lightened.

"Fred? George? W-What are you two doing?"

"Saving your arse from another detention," Fred Weasley glazed over towards the rows of portraits, some were noticeably sleeping and others, were subtle.

"What?"

"Those portraits are snitches," George snarled. "Why are you walking the castle corridors at two in the morning?"

"Couldn't sleep. What about you two?"

"Heading to the kitchen... wanna come?"

"Why not," dropping her shoulders as she shrugged, smiling.

The trio warily heaved, lifting their foot at a time, leery to the surroundings — especially those haughty excuses for spies. Footsteps against the stone floors began to echo. Filch must've been lurking around, a bright flash of orange and yellow hues had beamed behind them.

"Quick," Fred Weasley grabbed her hand, lightly sprinting towards the Hufflepuff area, next to the kitchens. " _In."_

The Weasley twins and Flora ingressed through the compact entrance behind the portraits of painted fruit — ripened bananas and wine grapes in a cornucopia. The pear tickled and a cheery laugh produced from the painting, force swung the object sideways to let the trio in.

_Tickle the pear to enter the kitchen?_

"This is where we like to go at night."

"You don't sleep?"

"Pfft. Sleep is for the weak," George rummaged through the tables, obtaining a particular sweet hidden amidst everything. "Try this," he held out some chocolate cauldrons.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry."

"We noticed that you weren't at dinner... you should eat," Fred offered, food bundled on top of his palm.

"Snape's detentions are brutal. He had Ron and Harry pick something from rat brains," George ran his hands towards the Treacle tart and grinned.

"That's gross-"

"True story, they didn't eat for sometime after that... maybe not Ron, all he does is eat," George recounted, caressing a cauldron cake before eating it.

"Well, I'll try not getting anymore detentions with Snape then. Do the elves here love company?"

"Dobby loves when we come here, don't ya Dobs!" Fred called, waving his freckled warm over towards the elf.

"Dobby must not lie sir but it is nice."

"Sometimes we help Dobby with Winky Winks over there."  
  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━  
  


"Hey, wake up!"

"What?" The brunette girl's throat tensed up, clenching the blanket over her body and resting in stillness of the fetal position.

"Get up! You completely missed breakfast so I got you something to eat," Ziva offered, hankering her hand of fruit and more onto the bedside table.

"Thanks."

"Well, we have Transfiguration first so get dressed soon," the curly haired girl enunciated, tending towards her bed where the same silken royal blue sheets laid.

"Hello," Luna ambled in the room, smiling noticeably with dirt rubbed onto the floor and leaves stuck between each toe.

"Luna, you're here finally! I woke up at four in the morning to an empty room, where did you two go?"

"I wasn't with Luna, more like the Weasley twins," Flora said.

Her mind raced, raced more towards the concept of skipping but more so the uncomfortable feeling of finding McGonagall in her animagus form— a tabby cat.

_Perhaps this was reality, a reality that remained inconsistent, inconsistencies with what reminded her of death. Fear even._

_Dead animals. Dead body limbs. Dead cat._

_Limbs sawed off, it truly was a dark climax that had only begun._

"Hey!" Ziva interrupted, clicking of the fingers had snapped off from the trance and smoothly had regained herself. "You good?"

"Yeah, sorry just had a weird daydream.."

"Alright... you ready to go to class?"

Flora nodded, slowly boosting herself up with the strength of her palms being dragged from the bed. Hefting books were cradled in her right arm, the dominant side. Ziva was left handed but preferred to use her right hand as much as she could so she would excel at the skill of being an ambidextrous.

The duplet of Ravenclaw girls walked throughout the meandered corridors, twists and curves ran the dim hallways of the castle. Sun rays beamed and the grass was a vibrant along with all sorts of greenery as they stepped out. The Transfiguration courtyard, a quad that stretched out near the Transfiguration classroom with students who sat on benches, or pressed against each stone wall.

"My legs are so lacking," she whined.

"The beauty of Hogwarts — never ending stairs and corridors."

The Transfiguration classroom, a tad more to the left of a nearby spiraling staircase filled with boxes that surrounded the bottom layer of the floor. Ziva and Flora walked under the arching stone that had been decorated and attached to the doorway, it spelled out the class.

It was another lesson with the Slytherin and Ravenclaw students together, just like Potions— it wasn't going to end well. Draco Malfoy sat behind the two Ravenclaw girls, next to Crabbe who had stuck his pudgy index finger far up in his ear as they prepared to take out their wands.

"Crabbe stop doing that! Fucking disgusting," Draco scoffed, his voice being heard by only Crabbe and the brunette girl.

"Today's lesson we'll be turning Goldfinches to Snitches," Professor McGonagall stated, wrapping her bone wrinkled hands around the Golden Snitch she had transfigured.

"Boring," Ziva murmured softly, inaudible to the Professor.

Clamorous chatters were distinct and bodies protruding forwards in frustration and hopes on achieving the transfiguration spell. The accents were slightly noticeable with every enunciation and murmur that had produced from every student in the classroom.

Flora heard a mumbling noise, familiar because it was different to everyone else in the room, it didn't speak of words but a soft miaow.

"Meow," Draco mocked, whispering intensely as he leaned slightly closer to the brunette girl. "Meow, Meow."

"What are you doing?!" Ziva snapped, whipping her head to face the spiteful boy.

"I'm just practicing the transfiguration spell, is that a problem?"

"Idiot, you were making stupid cat noises. Quit it," she scorned, tightly holding her wand below her desk, hoping to hex him without getting caught.

"No I wasn't."

"Quit it!"

"Why would I? That bitch got me a detention, I'm only repaying it," Draco curled his lip, dirty looks expressed on his face.

"What did you just call me?"

"You dead or something... oh wait that was your cat," he taunted once more, something was seriously wrong about the boy.

"Are you a fucking sociopath?"

"Imagine caring too much about some useless animal," he shrugged.

Florina had the very strong urge to punch him, elbow to his nose, hearing the bridge of it crack and snap with great oozing thick warm blood soaking his upper lip.

_Violent but it was needed._

"Miss Cates, Miss Zabini and Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall interrupted, stern looks began to glare over them. "Do you all have something to share?"

"No Professor."

"Very well, ten points will be taken from each of you three."

Grunts from the iced blond boy could be heard muffled by his palm that trailed down his pale face and sighed. It was a short lesson, maybe it was because she was focused on arguing with the ignorant boy rather then the boring lesson.

The chiming of the bell had indicated and confirmed the end of the lesson with many more classes to go throughout the dreary day. Shuffled sounds of feet moved with the rhythm of pacing students, mumbling and marching onto the pavements as if they were robots. It was school so of course students would've felt as if they were robotic, controlled by the ministry— perhaps Umbridge had something to do with the dulled atmosphere.

"If I see _Malfoy_ again, I'm not going to hesitate to punch him," Florina exasperatingly expressed, anger built up inside readying to lash out on that boy.

"He said something about a dead cat, your dead cat. What does that mean?"

"It was something that Snape bewitched or something to make it look like my dead cat. Apparently he punishes students with dead carcasses of their pets," she recalled, filling details about the image, the image that had been imprinted in her mind.

"What the actual fuck. I didn't know Snape's detentions were like that."

"Now you know, never have detention with him."

"Duly noted," she acknowledged, feeling her leather shoes through the highly maintained grass, dew seeped throughout the grass with drops plopped on their shoes.

"Do you want to go feed creatures with Luna?"

"Yes."

Luna Lovegood was a lover of creatures, connecting herself with them and gaining a sense of trust and appreciation. She roamed the forest floors barefoot, crunching leaves and snapping twigs caught in between her toes.

"FLORI, ZIVY!"

"Hi Luna," Flora waved, steadily strolling down the hill.

"Do you want to feed her?"

"Umm sure," Florina clasped onto the strips of raw meat, hesitant as she threw it lightly in the air while watching the skeletal body of the creature move.

"I'm sorry but what the fuck are you two looking at?" A puzzled Ziva looked in all directions, through her eyes, it was only Flora and Luna standing in front of her.

"Thestrals."

"Oh okay... so they're real."

"I hope so if not, then my eyes are seriously deceiving me," The brunette jested, grabbing more pieces from Luna's bucket.

"That's funny," the dazed girl said.   
  


_She'd hoped that the two girls would forever be in her life_

_— no matter what happens._   
  



	10. 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇

**"BULLSHIT," ADRIAN PUCEY** beamingly sat, his dented dimples deepened as Flora told him an 'out of the ordinary' story. His legs crossed from hers, leaning against the rigid stone wall of a courtyard. Flocks of birds fluttered past, chirping throughout the whistled winds while blinded by the flashing sun.

"It's not-"

"Bullshiiiit."

"It's not, are you daft?!" Florina expressed frustration, the reaction that had she not been expecting when she sat with him.

"I'll believe you, if you teach me how to throw knives perfectly," a simpering grin appeared, snatching the attention of the girl to the older boy.

"No chance."

"Whyy?"

"You'll end up ruining my knives," her fingertips rummaged, cuticles scoured the bare folder she'd been carrying, scraping the grains of dirt.

"Pleeeassseee!"

"Fine!" The girl caved in, sighing softly with a convincing smile. "Meet me in the Forest around five, this afternoon."

"Knives in the forest... you're definitely planning my murder," subtly arching his dark eyebrows, jesting wide eyes and chuckled.

"Don't test me," she whispered, leaning away as she hoisted herself up. Glazing down at his smug smile, she boosted her pace, filling the left corridors with heavy treads.

Florina strolled, rambling throughout the corridors as the crisped morning air began to soften, dews were plopped perfectly on exposed greenery. Her glowing personality contrasted with the glooming hallways, never ending chains of torches dimmed the area.

_It was truly a flawless Sunday morning._

"It's officially Hallows month," Ziva sprang at the girl, budging her forward to two pairs of Hufflepuff students.

"Spooky."

"I couldn't care less about the actual day, except the feast!" Hogwarts feasts were astonishing, holiday seasons were the peak of the food consumption.

"You and Ron are so alike."

"Except, my love— I would've taken the girl that he turned down... all because she had acne, to the Yule Ball," Ziva proclaimed, gingerly skipping the stoned walkway, adopting a specific Luna mannerism.

"You would've taken a girl?"

"If I was into them...."

"Instead, she went with Miles Bletchley," Persephone transpired, pitched up behind the two girls.

"He's an arse but he's cute."

"' _He's an arse but he's cute,'_ love, he's just an arse." The Hufflepuff girl mimicked, swinging her arms around the pair of Ravenclaw girls. Miles Bletchley was the keeper of the Slytherin team, Florina heard all good things from Eros but girls would say otherwise.

The trio sauntered, relaxed breeze washed over the air, a warm morning with a tinge of cool weather— it was neutral. An obstacle had intervened with the path, sending Florina's body to jerk forward and levelling her to a pair of pale legs which had covered the gravel trail.

"Oops, maybe you should watch where you're going next time," Pansy Parkinson sneered, her eyes glazed sourly over the girl, bearing a devilish smile.

"What's your problem?!"

"Ooh, did I get you all pissy?"

"Yeah, yeah you did actually," her skin grazed against the stones, blotting it with dripping blood and peeled skin that peeked the papillary dermis. Flora hoisted herself with the help of Ziva's hands, furiously dragging her body up.

"What are you going to do about it? klutzy bitch," Pansy's figure raised upright before leaning against the wall next to Millicent Bullstrode.

A sharp corner from the girls, stood Eros who had been muttering spells at some juveniles while fulfilling his prefect duties. The Cates' sibling scrutinised the area, halting when he distinguished the brunette preparing to beat the bobbed haired girl. " _No,"_ he uttered.

"I'm going to ri-" her slimmed frame tugged backwards, the tall Slytherin boy stood between the girls. "Eros, move!"

"Protected by your brother... how adorable, a shame he protects me in bed," she jeered, egging the girl more with every insult and witty remarks. Pansy sure did have a proclivity on starting unnecessary tragedies and _especially_ starting rumours that weren't true.  
  


"Wha-"

"Fuck this," Flora's grip tightened around her brother's arm before releasing and strongly jostling him away from her space. A rush of adrenaline pumped throughout her body, feeling the kinetic energy motion passing her physique, growing stoutly.

A hard knock to her flustered cheek began to redden, Pansy's right cheek blistered with the warm inflamed flesh. The brunette battered her face, feeling an aching tug to her hair as Pansy's only response was to clench onto her strands.

Her waist being snatched from the bruised girl's body, hindering her as she wriggled from Fred Weasley's clutch, his lanky freckled arms wrapped around the smaller girl. Her glaze sought out the gravel, droplets of currant blood spilled from Pansy's busted snoot.

"I wasn't done!"

"You are now," punctuated Professor McGonagall, her dark robes swooping the stoned tiles as she attended to the bleeding girl, ceasing the fight.   
  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  
  


The blustery temperature of winds raced, forces stricken against the air as they whistled amongst the rustle of trees. The Dark Forest, home to all sorts of creatures ranging from unicorns to thestrals, it was truly an experience. The girl walked, crunching leaves trailed behind as twigs snapped, echoing throughout the dense forest.

Adrian Pucey glanced at all four corners of the clearing, leaves piled up high and dusk was slowly approaching, a murderous feeling shook over his body. Soft blended arm hairs dramatically stood upright with vigorous shivers prickling and numbing his body.

Cracking of sticks and leaves filled the air, leaving nothing but silence as his breaths intensified, pacing fast, fast like every inch of his body depended heavily on it.

"FLORA! ARE YOU THERE?"

_Nothing._

"IF YOU'RE TRYING TO SCARE ME, IT'S NOT WORKING!"

_The only whispers he heard were the trees nestled in the soft winds._

_"_ FLORINA, I'M NOT FUCKING JOKIN-"

A flash of metal had intrusively glinted through the remaining light of the sun, blinding him for only what felt like a minute. Flinching uncontrollably when his jumper anchored to the thick barks of the tree behind him, tugging hard as he tried to jerk his body forward to release.

_It was a dagger of some sort that had perforated through his torso clothing._

He knew exactly who it was, staring proudly directly at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK! You are an actual proper psycho!" he wriggled, feeling the burning sensation of his neck against the collar of his jumper, chafing across the skin layers that buried his thyroid cartilage.

"Oh come on, admit that I scared you," the crunch of the darkened hickory leaves echoed, noises fluttering around. 

"You didn't."

"Oh, I totally did," her soft hands grasped aggressively onto the handle, centring her eyes to it as she hauled the sleek dagger while releasing his body free.

"Actually... you know what, I think I'll just go back to the castle," his palm scraped the surface of his jumper, removing every last bark of wood.

"Scared? A Slytherin is scared?"

"I'm not scared, I'm terrified that you going to rip through my body with those things-"

"Daggers."

"And what's this?-" he held onto a particular knife, different from the ones that she had brought. The dagger was short, it had a great sharp point, blade sharp enough to cut you without making it past the first layer of your skin. The black sleek handle, decorated with a tiny chain around the edge, small holes installed around, within the handle.

"Don't tou-"

Small spikes protruded out of the handle, skewing every inch of his hand where he had grasped onto, letting out an agonisingly holler. Blood dripped from his palm, wrapping and overlapping each other as they circled down to his arms. "WHAT THE FUCK!"

"-ch. It's okay, it's just a small cut."

"WHY DO YOU HAVE A WEAPON LIKE THIS?!"

"For this exact reason," she held out her wand, gently pressing her hand on his right arm, muttering an incantation. " _Tergeo."_

"Wouldn't you get suspended or expelled with these?" his left hand massaging the right, healing as the pain only lasted fleetingly.

"Probably, I don't know."

"Why does that knife have spikes? Are you mental or something? Carrying shit like that," Adrian's questions rocketed out, shooting within every second.

"These aren't just spikes... the handle detects the difference between fingerprints when you touch it."

"What?"

"You can't touch it because it belongs to me... my prints are recognised by it, therefore, it produces spikes when someone... who isn't me, touches it." Her head nodded, slowly watching his eyes light up when he had finally processed the information.

Her fingertips stroked the handle, lifting it delicately as the older boy watched, flickering his eyes as he thought it would skewer her hand. But nothing happened. "See?"

"That's actually genius."

"My mum is, she enchanted it."

"Teach me to throw these ones," he briskly hovered over two plains of black miniature knives, while being cautious with it.

"Okay... stand in front of that tree," Flora pointed her nails, free of grimes, highlighting towards a thick oak tree which was situated a metre to the right.

"What?!"

"Did you not hear me?"

"I-I, you are evil. I have no idea why you aren't in Slytherin," hesitant, he plodded. His footsteps resonated within the fluting winds.

"So, firstly I line it up to your body-"

"WHAT?!"

"I'm not going to dart it at you, it's going to skim it to the top of your head.. alright?"

The clacking of the blades together had set the intensity of the atmosphere, preparing her knife and demonstrating ways to get a view of the target. The dark haired boy stood, his stiff body didn't dare to move, not while she was about to soar the dagger towards him and potentially staggering through his body.

His eyelids were tightened against each other, feeling his beating heart skip a few beats as he clenched his teeth. Gritting his pearly whites together, it was subtle, hoping the brunette wouldn't notice his now, very pale face.

No warning, it struck. The dagger glided through the wind, it's force trailed behind as it triggered a deep flinch. The point of the blade, now concealed deep in the wooden surface of the thick oak tree had swept past just the tip of his head and a centimetre from his hair.

"Is it over?!"

Realising that he had his eyes shut tight the whole time, she sighed with less enthusiasm. "You closed your eyes! Now I have to redo it because you didn't look."

"NO!" he bellowed, birds scattering the nestled branches as he stomped the leafy floors. "I-I have to go back to the common room... to... umm— I have to teach Goyle some poetry."

_"Teach Goyle some poetry?"_

Perhaps she was harsh with the teaching, insignificant about the apprehension of feasibly stabbing him if she had missed the top of his hair. Her mind was focused on being infuriated by Pansy Parkinson, deriding her just for existing.   
  



	11. 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃

**DRACO MALFOY** **ﾐ** **·** ⋆  
  
  


**STONED WALLS FILLED THE HOLLOWNESS** **,** closing in with every inch of the thick bricks. Trapped within the surroundings, I panted, bulky walls enclosed the graveling floors. Squished and splattered against the tiled walls, I felt like a pesky bug but ridden of the dark energies that had been wasted inside— secreting merlot blood infused with a sable substance.

My body had been painfully drained. The walls had no effect, a dream that wasn't controlled nor could I feel— mentally, I was drained.

An earthquake had risen, slowly grounding my feet while the pounding of the dark walnut wooden flooring had elevated. Dropping like the dead as if I've been hit with the killing curse, my legs were stiff, feeling the adrenaline pumping through as I fell.

Falling through the boards, travelling down the empty void with flickers of intense blinding green flashes, contrasted against the obsidian walls.

_Thud._

My body sprawled onto the juniper tiled floors, carved with hints of emerald and midnight black peeking through the cracks. The chilling atmosphere projected shivers spiraling down from my neck, splitting to each of my limbs.

_The feeling was familiar._

_Too familiar._

The blurry surroundings began to slowly enhance, the feeling of vigorous torture had softened with each blink. I was more than awake now.

_Avada Kedavra._

Powerlines of green flashes coursing below my feet, unable to lift or power through, my body fell weak again. Splattered blood filled the juniper, washing over the tiled cracks and inching closer to my feet.

My bare feet.

Two bodies strung high of the exquisite chandelier, the floor filled with fragments of the glass that had scattered and splintered into the dead corpses. Equidistant to each other, they rested with small swings.

Branded with the Dark Mark, it had burned into their fleshed pale skin, prickled with blood— streaming down their forearms. Binded with the fibres of Manila hemp, a rope that had tightened the wrists of the two bodies. Dyed in crimson.

Their stringy blonde strands had withered, dehydrated with no nutrients and dried flakes of skin peeled away. Their shoulders hunched, leaving their skulls bent towards their frames.

I was hesitant to walk under the corpses, horrified to uncover what their maimed faces would look like— but I had to know who they were. What they looked like. Perhaps people who I knew. I plodded the cold ground, vile whispers filled with rage echoed the hollow room, a room that had resembled my own house but a non furnished one.

Claggy blood spat down, dripping every second from their faces. A close view from below them had turned to desolation.

It was my parents.

The corpses of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

Their eyes sunken into their boned faces, pale skin had slightly peeled off and claret liquids had ejected out. It was mostly from the eye sockets that expelled blood, rusted metal scents pervaded the surrounding ambience.

The very same flares of green dazzled my eyes, my body raced— dropping to the floor and laying in pure agony. This time I could feel. I could feel the pain. Pain that was so blinding that I needed to experience to feel it.   
  
  


"HEY!" clicking fingers had snapped, awakening me from a tormented trance. "Are you alright? You're sweating."

"Blaise, how many fucking times do I have to tell you. Don't wake me up," my hands grasped the blanket, pulling it tightly over my shoulder.

"Yeah, Yeah. You have Quidditch practice now."

"I'm going to skip it."

"You know you can't do that. Cates will have you off the team," Theo interrupted, emerging from the corner, his sheets neatly wrapped over the bed.

"Fucking Arsehole," my teeth gritted against each other, almost severely chipping them into an indent. "A disgrace to Pure-Bloods."

"You know, for Pure-Bloods— there isn't much on their family..." Theo mentioned, proposing a suggestive comment.

"What are you going to do? Stalk them?" Blaise chortled. His hands scuffled around the floor, clearing anything from underneath his bed.

"No... but Flora though..."

"Watch it Nott, you might be stealing Pucey's girl," he whispered, mocking Theodore Nott with his minuscule crush.

"A Slytherin and a Ravenclaw— that's vile," my eyes caught to the ground, glinting a tiny metal piece that had been curved inward and dented. "Who the fuck broke my ring?! That shit was expensive."

"Maybe your girlfriend Parkinson broke it."

"I'm going to practice and she's not my girlfriend," my body raised, fury built in when I had asked about my beloved ring, gifted from my father— an heirloom.

"I'm bored so Blaise and I are going to watch you fail," Theo tugged on the boy's collar, his bleary eyes watched him scanning the room.

Five in the morning and I was already dreading the day, quidditch practice would officially be the death of me. I had a grudge against that thick head of a quidditch captain, Eros Cates. Since Flint had graduated and resigned from his captaincy, Cates took his place— says that girls should have a chance to be on the team.

I liked when Flint was still captain, letting me on the team since the second year and only allowed boys to play. Cates was actually willing to allow girls. Fucking disgraceful. 

"Malfoy, you are probably going to get booted off the team for being late," Blaise suggested, his glaze focused to the jagged surface of the pathway, leading to the quidditch pitch.

"Shut up."

"Fuck, finally! Look who's here," Eros announced, the Slytherin boys tapping their feet repeatedly while eyeing me. "What took you so long Malfoy?"

"Slept in."

" _DON'T_ do that again."

"Cunt," I huffed, inaudible to him. I hastily heaved my broomstick, the wood wasn't hollow, it was hefty on land but not in the air. It flew smoothly— could knock out a few people on it.  
  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  


The nightmare had haunted the vision of my parents, their dead corpses strung to the chandelier, wrists tied— bleeding as the rope had settled into their ghostly skin. It was stuck in my mind. Maybe it was how I wanted to see them. How I wanted to see my father.

Now that Voldemort had risen, it was possible.

My mind had been utterly useless for awhile now, strolling the corridors and storming the grounds. It was a golden morning, I didn't smile though, don't want to seem like I have actual feelings. Giggles erupted from everywhere, annoying noises echoed from Half-Bloods and Mudbloods.

Waste of space. Should've been a Pure-Blood only school.

The warm rays radiated, colouring my hair with canary hints instead of the lighter iced shade that it usually was. Disgusting to be seen with such hideous yellow hair, I needed to be back in the shaded walkways and free from damaged people.

"Why are you so quiet?" Theo's arm swung the around my shoulder, tightening his grasp as he walked stiffly.

"What?"

"I SAID— why are you so quiet?" he interrogated once more, releasing me from his annoying clutches of intense pain.

"Uhh. No reason," my hands ruffled through, softening the stiff silken ends of my hair from a product I had just used earlier this morning for practice.

"Please— OH MY GOD!"

"What?!"

"The younger Cates sibling is beating the living shit out of Pansy," he darted, dragging me along to the corner of a wall. He watched on from behind the stoned wall, secretly chanting ' _fight'_ over and over again.

"Cool, I don't care."

Pansy's bruised cheekbones were noticeable, her skin began to swell and inflame just seconds after she had been knocked. Her hands briskly hovered over her fractured nose bridge and merlot had escaped the entrance of her nasal passages. She was battered.

The brunette was held back by the fucking ginger of a Weasley. Fred fucking Weasley. His lanky arms were overlapping each other and around her waist, tightly wrapped around them.

Professor McGonagall had flounced towards them, ceasing the fight before it had escalated to a bigger problem. The fight wasn't a fight— it wasn't good. I guess it was okay for a bunch of girls.

"Why does McGonagall always have to interrupt!?" Theo groaned, his head fell backwards in annoyance.

"It was lame, girls can't fight for shit."

"You're one to talk, didn't Granger pummel your face two years ago?"

"That attitude is going to get you kicked," I quipped, riled by his comment about the pathetic consciousness thought of when the Mudblood had placed her fists to my face.

I swanned around the wall, quickening my average  
pace away from the crowds and back to the Slytherin common room. The underwater illusion had alluded the specific cold feeling of the dungeon atmosphere. Grindylows could be seen through the enchanted glass, fogged up with the water but it was clear.

Blaise was collapsed on the single chair, black leather crinkled underneath his body. His legs were roughly positioned on the armrest with his frame laying horizontally. His slender index finger trailed down a cream tinted page of a book— something about hexes and being vexed.

"What are you reading?"

"Some random book that I picked up," he uttered, his glaze focused on the book as he gazed over the symmetrical lines. His facial expression conveyed amusement, clearly to him it was a lucky pick up— he's hardly impressed with anything.

"Borin-"

The dark hunter green door with an arched black doorway had blared opened, force pushed it open as Blaise had been startled by the sudden noise. His relaxed position had now been ruined with a jerking reaction.

"THAT STUPID BITCH!"

"God Pansy, calm down," Millicent Bulstrode ushered the girl to the common room. Her face had been badly bruised, any normal person would've went to the hospital wing— but Pansy...

"Woah, what happened to you?" Blaise snapped away from his book, facing the bobbed haired girl with crusted merlot liquids around her nose.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK HAPPENED BLAISE!?"

"Calm down!"

"You provoked her, what did you expect to happen?" Theo reminded, blasting her out like he always does. Calling attention from surrounding years of students to them.

"I expected insults NOT physical ones. She's weak anyways and she can't fight for shit," her voice croaked, whining as she amplified her sounds to echo within the chamber.

"That's the same thing that Draco said," Theo intercepted, his aggravating comments would not stop. Him having to sew his mouth together would be a fucking miracle right now and every other day.

"Great minds think alike huh?" she swooned, dismally twitching her mouth to a smile and not trying to look sore with her new bruises.

"You should go to the hospital wing, maybe get your brain checked too," migraines expanded, slowly progressing and perpetuating through my head, blood rushing. Surrounded by annoying idiots.

"Your face is so fucked," Eulalie intruded with Daphne, her face reddened— desperately trying not to laugh at her busted out cheeks. "You should get it fixed."

"You think?! Where's my wand?"

"I-I think you dropped it," Bulstrode informed her. Pansy's face dropped, her eyes narrowed with anger— frustration even. She looked as if she was trying to recollect herself before she snaps for the tenth time today.

"Get ready for it..." Nott mumbled with great excitement for another fight or just drama in general. His eyes shot from the girls when his comment had been noticed by everyone.

"I am this close to losing it," her breaths puffed, the dark fringe had gusted upward from her powering exhales.

"Oh, that wasn't that bad-"

"I AM THIS FUCKING CLOSE TO LOSING IT!"

"Hate to break it to you love, but you just did," Blaise corrected her, not leaving his eyes from the book. The thick gauge of the book had slightly decreased with every flick. What was so important about that book?

"Miss Parkinson! Professor McGonagall requires you to see her in her office," Snape's disgusted expression from the sight of everyone had conjured a hand to his hips in a demanding manner. "And do something about your bleeding face!"  
  
  



	12. 𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

**NARRATOR** **ﾐ** **·** ⋆  
  
  
  
  
  


**"I AM PROFOUNDLY DISAPPOINTED,"** McGonagall's voice sharpened with utter sorrow. Her footsteps had reverberated throughout the room, echoing with every step she took towards the table.

Flora sat in awe, her body halted in the wooded chair with her legs tightly crossed— overlapping each other as she endured McGonagall's wrath. She knew that she was perhaps done for. The detentions. The morning before.

Eros exasperatingly stood next to McGonagall's desk, arms folded securely and his vexing glaze was set onto her. He genuinely was disappointed with his own sister. Wasn't her fault she had inherited a genetic trait from their Slytherin father— especially when he had attended Hogwarts in the sixties.

"Florina, you are a good student who wants to achieve the best. Much like your brother," she calmly exchanged glances, meeting with the brunette girl as she placed a boned hand onto the decorative desk. "You are smart. Don't let any inconveniences stop that."

"Professor, my hand accidentally slipped towards her face," Flora expressed an abundance of chaos to the older woman. Eros was noticeably pressing his hand against his upper face— wide gazes to the side of the room.

"Very well, I've already talked to Miss Parkinson." McGonagall had debunked her comment with a 'two sides to every story' mentality. "As for you Mr Cates, Mr Pucey might have to step forward for Quidditch Captain if you can't keep up with the Head Boy and Captain status.'"

"No! Professor, I can do both. You know I'm the better person for them," he tamely argued. His hands indecisively rested around the corner of the medium desk.

"Better person? Are you saying that Adrian isn't good enough?" Flora quoted the older boy. Her legs still tangled around each other underneath the chair and her arms wrapped around her body.

"No, I'm saying that I can do all of them by myself."

"You said you were better. I can't make it up," her head shook within the pulsating vibrations of her numbing headache. Her witty comments were keeping herself somewhat sane. 

"Perhaps you two should work it out but outside of my office," she insisted, her pointed fingertips ruled to the doorway. Her index finger bone had been outlined by her frail skin and various wrinkles of pale flesh. "And I do hope that I don't have to see you in any more trouble, Miss Cates."

The Cates siblings astutely escorted out of the Professor's room. Florina's eyes drifted towards his annoyed expression, his arms tightened the cross against his chest.

"So-"

"Shut up." Eros was fed up with his sister's attitude and attention— she was starting to get the wrong sort of a reputation. "You damaged our family name in France by getting expelled from Beauxbatons and you are purposely trying to ruin my future!"

"I'm not trying to ruin anything."

"You are! You're ruining my chances of getting a good career," his footsteps thudded against the staled concrete of a corridor and gaining speed out of frustration.

"Well, not everything is about you!" her statement turned into pure bitterness and shading every light that had shone on him. "This year has been really hard for me okay? Cedric wa-"

"I lost him too! He was my friend before he was yours and now he's dead." That was veracious in his defence. Eros and Cedric were around the same age— their fathers' were close to the ministry. The boys were close, practically brothers but that was until Cedric fancied the middle sibling. Florina Cates. A meaningless childhood likeness. "I still have no idea why Cedric was relevant with you punching Parkinson. Is it that hard to restrain yourself?"

"I'm trying so hard to be nice! You've never been bullied or anything— you've never had your hair set on fire or your legs broken because some bitch pushed you. It's called self-defence, learn it or get out of my way when I defend myself." her words circled through his head. It was selfish to say that he had it worse than her but he couldn't tell her why losing his father and Cedric wasn't the worst death of them all. He just couldn't— a promise to forget about that past.

Playing it cool but playing with fire as he was still huddled behind a memory. It was an act to keep up with the lies. A fucking cruel one. " You're just a fucking curse on this family," her soles cemented to the ground as he roughly walked away, continuing his prefect chore.

It was truly a bore to be related to the older boy. A restless nightmare amidst the darkened abyss with never-ending scoldings and feeling shadowed.   
She felt shadowed behind her brother. He was a golden boy, much like Cedric with good grades, prefect and a star quidditch player.

"Fucking arsehole."

"Aren't they all?" Harry emerged behind the girl, a sorrowful glance evolved into unnerving looks.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long," his hands snuggled in his trouser pockets. His feet struggled to maintain a stillness in the pit of his shoes while eyeing the dusted concrete floors. "Walk with me?"

"I really have to go to—" her eyes noticed the oblique expression from him, a transparency of emotions subtly reached her. "Sure."

"I saw your fight with Pansy," his steps treaded smoothly throughout the densely lit decorated halls with Flora stuck closely next to him. "And I was thinking-"

"If you want me to beat someone up for you, the answer is no. I don't do that for free."

"W-What no. I was thinking that you'd be a good asset," a smile signalled various unknown trodding noises coming towards the pair. Hermione and Ron snuck behind from a chiselled singular wall, the wall with a vibrancy of kelly green ferns and vines draped around.

"Okay, I know I'm a Ravenclaw but could you give me some context about... this," her hands moved in circulation, swirling the air between the quartet.

"Can we trust her?" Ron uttered nearby, his head close to Hermione with stiff glances.

"I can hear you."

Whispers chattered amongst each other, it soughed like hauntings of olden ghosts portrayed in conjuring films and books. Her frame indecisively kept still with her hands fighting against the breeze that furiously blew some of her front strands to her face.

"Okay, Flora. We're going to let you in on a little secret okay? It's a secret that no Slytherin knows, not even your brother or Dumbledore." Hermione stood to the left of Ron, her curled hair rested amidst the flowing wind. "We want you to join the DA but please don't utter this to anyone else who isn't in the group."

"What does DA mean? Dumbledore's Army? Isn't that a bit obsessive? I mean if you really wanted a good name... 'The Avengers,' is perfect." Everyone exchanged worrying glances. Hermione looked more as if she were to explode and lose all fragments of her organs everywhere.

"The what?"

"NO! And that is not what it stands for!" Hermione seethed, her temper began to ridden of the frustration when Ron had placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, maybe the name is a bit too much like be original right?... right?"

"We are going way off track!" Harry breathed, his head slightly tilted towards the ceiling with an irking roll of his eyes.

"Okay but I'm still not going to join your group."

"Shit! Harry, she's going to snitch on us now!" Ron's panicking tones rushed through the hallways of the Middle Courtyard. Quietening himself due to concerned expressions of surrounding bodies of students.

If they weren't so desperate to forward the secretive information of the organisation to her, then they would've been careful enough to not say highly confidential ideas in open spaces.

"If you think that I would snitch on you all— then you clearly don't know me but if it makes you happy then I'll think about it," Florina felt offended. Sure she hadn't known them for that long but the least they could've done was to not make obscure assumptions.

Her legs dragged herself away from the trio, turning to different corners and hallways until she had reached the spiralling cases of stairs linking to the doorway of the Ravenclaw common room.

She was sceptical about the intrusive thoughts about what kind of followers they were leading. An uprising against Voldemort? Umbridge? It was all coming together now, Harry wanted to form this group against the darkness and hope the opposing would wither and crumble into ashes.

It wasn't going to be simple of course but what if she already had the answers to Harry's thoughts locked inside of her mind? A mind that was so powerful it perhaps was obliviated to forgive and forget.   
  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  


"Hey, how was McGonagall?" Ziva looked up from the blonde girl with sweetly decorated florals in her hair to the brunette girl.

"Surprisingly good. She didn't give me a detention or anything," her body vibrations elevated in relief and calmness. "I love the way you did Luna's hair."

"You think? Do you think I should've added more of a twist here?"

"It's already perfect Zivy," Luna's frame rested in a meditative position on a raven velvet floor cushion and tucked between Ziva's legs. She squirmed as the girl tightened her braids to place her long hair together, piecing the baby strands in.

"Eros has the biggest fucking act in the world."

"How so?"

"Faking Pure-Blood status to earn a false reputation and he says that I ruined my family's name in France," she ranted to the two girls, who were both in their little worlds.

"What did happened in France?"

"Uhh— things..." a suspicious glaze crept over  
and projected on her face. It was an incident that she wished she could have removed from her cluttered mind.

"Okay.. But now I'm curious."

"Murder," Luna assumed, all eyes were stoned to her with brooding expressions.

"WHAT?!" Flora's eyes widened at the girl's attempt of an assumption. _Murder_ was a long stretch— if it was on purpose.

"I was just joking..."

Luna Lovegood had intuitions, intuitions that lead her to speak her mind but in an honest and truthful manner. She didn't want to overstep her boundaries with her friends so it was best to not intrude those thoughts into everyone's minds.

"I got scared for a second. Anyways, when did Harry say— actually never mind," Ziva conversed before briskly closing her mouth in attempt to stop herself from exposing about the DA group. Her and Luna swore to not tell anyone else about it, although, weren't sure if Flora was apart of it too.

"Tomorrow."

"Why are you two being so secretive all of a sudden?" Their cynical glances questioned the girl whom already knew what they were talking about. It was obvious and they knew it too.

"Secretive? What is?"

"Is that your way of pretending to be clueless about it?" Her hands glided the exterior material of the couch and halting as she reached the two girls. Keeping eye contact with them until they would crack out the _secret._

"Clueless?" Luna played along, stoking the thickness of her plaited hair with various miniature daisies and lavenders securely planted in.

"I already know about _it_. DA."

"Thank fuck you know about it! It was really hard for me to keep it from you," Ziva sarcastically scraped her forehead with the width of her palm, pretending to wipe off fake sweat. "How did you know?"

"Basically got ambushed into joining but I said no and that I'll think about it," she moved from behind the couch, sitting down her book as she lightly tucked a few of Luna's blonde tress back into place.

"You should join. Harry's going to teach us some good charms and more," the dark haired girl informed her with quite an exciting tone of fascination and commitment.

"Yeah, maybe."

Florina had the urgency to explore more of the castle rather then staying with the two girls and work on her essay. The charms essay was elementary to her, she'd promise herself that she would at least start on it after she uncovered hidden spots in the school.

She budged, slightly moving her feet away from the Ravenclaw girls and towards the exit of the tower. Confusing the girls as they sat and stared primarily at her.

"Where are you going?" Ziva faintly called to her, trying to not ruin the silence for everyone else who had been studying or idled in the rooms.

"Going to see my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

"Only joking," her chuckles could be heard echoing from the stairs before being muffled out by the enchanted door.

The imitating sounds of her slightly heeled shoes had filled the halls, slowing down as she proceeded to throw off the shoes. They clacked against each other which had immediately summoned a pair of pale hands to protrude out to pick the pair up.

She had swiftly angled her head to the ground where a dark haired boy kneeled to fetch the shoes that had been forwarded across the stoned floors from her feet. She had recognised his face when Pansy had insulted her for sleeping with people in exchange for a friendship.

"I believe you dropped these," ushering the leathered texture of shoes to her hands and smiling along.

"Thank You."

"I'm Theo Nott, we haven't been properly introduced," his hands adjacent to hers with the intention of shaking them and hoping to slowly kinder a friendship with the girl.

"Nott? I'm-"

"Florina and you can call me Theo. I consider you a friend now," his aura had energetically spruced the dimly spaced lanterns that hung every metre to each other against the corridors.

"Is it that easy to befriend a Slytherin?" her sarcastic tones matched that of Theo's humour with giggles and smiles all around them.

"Only Blaise and I."

Blaise practically advocates for women and their rights, being influenced by both his mum and his sister. He adored them, although would purposely rally against his sister as a comical joke but would fight anyone else who would bully her.

For Theo, he was raised on the mentality of Pure-Blood supremacy and the idealism that their blood type is better than anything else. He, of course had been influenced by others including Blaise and Ziva to think otherwise and still encouraging himself to think for what is right— unlike Draco.

"Do you know any hidden areas?"

"Yeah, a few but I have to ask— this may be a bit frank but if Pansy ever annoys me, could you punch her for me? I'm against the idea of men placing a hand to women," his words spoke to the girl and respectively nodding to his question. His head softly jerked to the left, gesturing her to follow him in that direction while leading her to excitement as she was exuberant in discovering cool disclosed locations.

Lightly treading the reverberating corridors, highly filling with their footsteps and cautiously not trying to be caught wondering the halls instead of being in either in the library or their own common rooms. Seemingly never ending dead ends and forcefully locked doors had given them both a push to a dashing experience within the castle limits.

"I could've sworn that it was this way," he murmured, rows of blocked doors lured him to cast a charm to remove the blockages. It was clearly failing as the obstacles would not budge one bit, no slight movements or scrapings. "This school is so fucked. There's always something bad that happens every year."

"Yeah and this year would be Umbridge," Flora suggested. A rightful suggestion as the older woman in hideous shades of pink would always be adding more plots to her vindictive school rules.

"A fucking nightmare."

"At least we both can agree on it. She has like a vendetta against this school or something," the pair continued to roam effortlessly, talking about the fuelling hatred they both had for the supposed _'pink toad.'_

A particular door that had been located at the end of the hall of the second floor had surprisingly stood out to them. It had a specific red shine on the outline of the door— like there was a glowing gleam behind the door. They were curious to the contents that had awaited them beyond the doorway but too sceptical as the castle had contained many disturbing secrets and distressing pasts.

His hand reached to his wand, pointing it throughly to the knob of the handle. A click of the handle had indicated the success of the incantation of _'Alohomora.'_

"Wait!" her fingertips obstructed with his, focusing her gaze to the door and examining the wooden features of the design that was fitted elegantly with golden hooks and a shine of iridescence in the splintered cracks. "It would be dumb to open a door that has a beaming glow of red projecting out of the doorway cracks."

"Yeah but it would also be dumb to not open it out of curiosity. Aren't you curious?" he shifted her hands vaguely as he prepared to twist the rusted handle that had visible golden flecks in which were still chipped.

"Well, yeah-"

"Great! We'll open it and you do have a tendency to open locked doors," Theo grasped the knob in his fisted hand while his right hand had clutched tightly to his wand. Slowly backing his body away to adjust himself to a position that they could easily escape if there was an emergency or especially for when they unleash a conjuring spirit of some sort.

"How did you-"

"Draco angrily ranted to me about it."

" _HELLO!_ " Peeves' transparent body began to solidify in front of the pair as they were startled by his sudden appearance and the jesting tone of his voice. "Naughty, naughty. _TheoBORE_ is up-to no good. I wonder what would happen if he opened the door?"

"Fuck off Peeves." 

"I'm no spoiler but I had a quick peek into the room and I think you two would like what it has," he continued, tormenting the pair with compelling words. Considering the words of encouragement came from Peeves, it wasn't going to be as good as they both thought. "Go on, open it."

"Merlin Peeves, this better not be a trick because so help me I will find the Bloody Baron and you can deal with him." Theo had hesitantly clutched onto the handle once more, after Peeves had startled him into moving his large hands out of the doorway. Because of Theo's threat, Peeves floated behind him, backing up next to Flora with a malicious smile of deceit.

Peeves knew exactly what the room had contained, smiling as the dark haired boy was resisting with every intense stare that the poltergeist had projected down at the boy. It was suspenseful trying to urge the feeling to just pull back the door and discover the anticipation of opening a fucking door.

"Just open it," she egged on, getting the stupid butterfly feeling out of her body. Heck, she was even going to open the door if he was taking this long to twist the single doorknob. How long was he just going to stand there, waiting until the door had magically opened to reveal— Merlin knows what.

"Yeah, listen to _SNORE-RA_ ," he added, mocking the way he had said the pairs name to make them out as wimpish or boring when it had came to opening that damn door. "Open it, open it, open it." Peeves chanted, jingling a ringing sound of small bells as he floated around them.

No one could ever make it past Peeves— perhaps the Bloody Baron but that was all for power. 

"You're making me nervous now. I was confident in opening it and now you're just making it worse!" he scolded to the glowing poltergeist, flashing a smile as he floated up and down, vigorously moving out of harm's reach. 

"Do you want me to open it? I highly doubt anything bad will pop out," she insisted. Her body stepping closer to the door with a confident attitude and a persistence to open the supposedly ' _terrifying_ ' door that they had perceived it to be. "Because, I will open it if no one will. I'm curious to know what is hidden behind the red glow."

"No! I'll do it-"

A consistency of chicken noises began to produce from Peeves' mouth, ruining the serious atmosphere into a comical environment in which only the poltergeist had found it so amusing to the pair. "Bwak-bwak-"

"OKAY! You're pissing me off now." he huffed while gritting his teeth, courage had built up inside of his body. However, that was until Flora got tired of being patient and had decided that it was time to just 'OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR.' 

She clasped her hands around the handle, twisting and pulling it with no hesitation, both of her hands grabbed to the edge of the wooden door and sliding it towards them. The door had swept the dusted floors, a squall of wind had forcefully made it's way past them as Theo had tightly shut his eyes.

Her eyes were staring dead into the space. But nothing was there. The red flashes of light had coincidently disappeared and no sign of anything. It was just an empty darkened room with no decorations or light. It was all dark.

Theo rushed to the doorway, his eyes roamed around the room. The boy was annoyed and frustrated with Peeves' prank that he had stammered his feet against the stoned floors and began to furiously scold at Peeves.

"Peeves! Why are you so infuriating?!"

"Perhaps it was just my eyes but I could've sworn that I saw you two in there?" his cryptic words had made no sense, just a confusion of emotions floundering through his brain.

"Wha-"

"Theo, look at this!" Flora impeded him from doing harm to the poltergeist. His body pivoted to face the same room that had been filled with complete void. Now had changed.

His eyes widened at the sight. It was a truly a rare vision to be seen in school. "Holy shit-"  
  



	13. 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW | Cuts and scars

**THE EARLY MORNINGS OF SCHOOL WERE DREADFUL,** rain would pour into cemented stone cracks of the tiles and splatter against mosaic tinted windows of the castle. Defence Against the Dark Arts was no exception to the already uneventful morning, the morning of five days after when Flora and Theo went uncovering a forbidden room.

The girl sat in her chair, thinking about her seventeenth birthday that would occur in a week. Excluding thoughts of death began to note in her mind, burned into her brain with hallucinating imageries of rapid swingings from the bodies that had discovered to be faceless corpses.

Perhaps she was going mad but a boy with deep slashes visible on his body had come into mind when she thought about death. A boy that she'd never seen before, however, she only saw him once. It was all too complicated to process and even for a Ravenclaw. Envisioning the strange boy was already enough for her, it irrupted her mind even when she had forced herself to see the bright lights of situations— the good sides. _But no use_.

"Hey," Theo skimmed his hand to the back of her chair, gliding himself next to the girl. "Can I sit with you? Just for this lesson."

"Sure," her smile comforted him. Approval nods from the girl had confirmed the vacancy of the seat as he relentlessly sat down, conceivably still a little shaken up from the last week of wondering the castle. It was probably smart to just not go towards bright flickers of cinnabar lights that had projected from out of doors. Smart thinking would've been to just not open suspiciously placed doors in desolated hallways.

"Nott, why are you sitting there?" Ziva slammed her hand on the desk, across from his face and causing the boy to a brisk jolt away from the girl. "Why aren't you sitting with Malfoy? Did he kick you out of his little boyband cult?"

"Funny, and no. Flora said I could."

"Did she now?.." her head slowly angled to where the brunette had comfortably planted herself. "Is that true?"

"I'm sorry Zee but he did ask first," her shoulders dropped back, conveying guilty looks mixed with an apologetic feature had been plastered on her face.

"That's fine. I just didn't know I had to ask to sit next to my friend," she sighed, begging looks expressed on her face as she whipped to see a vacant seat next to Daphne Greengrass. " _I guess I'll be dramatic somewhere else._."

Draco Malfoy was noticed in the corner of her eye, ushering his hand for Theo to sit next to him. The boy didn't budge, he would've rather sat next to the girl than him so he could share about the terrifying experience they had witnessed. Malfoy wasn't having any of it, his eyes strictly focused onto him and the girl before switching his glaze towards the board when the heavily footed woman in blushes of pink came walking past.

Mild undertones of whispers were scattered around the classroom, belonging to each student who were grunting and sighing as the plump woman came sauntering in with newly strikingly covered books. Books about hexes and how to break and remove unwanted curses.

"Your boyfriend is soo scary," he whispered, leaning slightly in towards her.

"Boyfriend? I don't have one."

"Pucey? I was talking to Blaise about the door and I had mentioned that I was with you and he just gave me this angry stare?.." him calling the older boy _'her boyfriend,'_ was a bit of an overstatement and considering that she was still relatively new, she wasn't focused on dating.

"He's not— we aren't dating." That kiss was possibly, merely a subtle affection to each other and nothing more. Adrian saw her as a little sister. It was wrong to say, but she had developed a liking to him and before that, it was Cedric. "I only see him as a protective older brother, even though I already have one of those."

"Your brother and Pucey are one scary duo. Wouldn't be a surprise if he hated the whole Slytherin house," proclaiming the thought of both seventh-year boys and the strength they both packed.

"I think the only person that Eros hates would be Malfoy," she confessed, confirming the hatred that both Slytherin boys had against each other. It was perhaps that Draco was jealous of him being a favourable Slytherin and a magnet when attracting girls.

"That motherfucker hates Eros so much. It gets tiring just listening to how he would rant about him... it's obsessive at this point."

"You know, he can hear us right?"

"Nah," his shrugged shoulders had dismissed the girl's concerned views over Draco Malfoy.

" _Ahem,_ " a soft voice peeked through the pairs whispers. "Care to share the answer?" Umbridge asked. Close watches of students had targeted their eyes towards the pair, and waited for an answer.

"I don't kno-" Theo began to admit. Admitting that he hadn't been paying attention to the class nor to the Professor with an eerie amount of magenta lining on her fuzzed blazer and matching faux skirt.

"The answer would be... that there are six steps to the breaking of hexes," Flora announced, her eyes roamed around the room to each student who had been staring.

The Professor's eyebrows began to lift, lifting in a shocked or an ' _I didn't know you paid attention_ ' motion. "Yes, very well. However, ten points from Ravenclaw for speaking when I am teaching."

There it was. You couldn't even redeem yourself for answering a question correctly without taking house points off for earlier— even if you were paying attention this whole time.

Flora was poise at multitasking and other skills. She was taught by her mother to fight, perfected the arts of music and portraiture— she too had learnt the essence of how to deal with certain situations. None of them included seeing the dead or death in general.

"How did you know the answer? You were talking to me," the dark-haired boy subtly leaned in once more, heavily glancing to see the lady in pink with her back turned from the students.

"It's on that page," her index finger extended to where the book was. In front of them had a book with dull textures of pages filled with the exact wording of the answer she gave. She had merely grazed her eyes to the sentence as she was called out to answer. Precisely scanned to the exact one.

"Do you want to come over to the Slytherin common room later tonight?"

"Why?"

"We're playing some games. Bring Ziva too, she's fun when she's drunk," his insisting words had compelled her to give a frivolous smile of unimportance.

She wasn't interested in going to the Slytherin common room— especially after she had knocked Pansy Parkinson in the head.   
  
  


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"No way, I'm not going tonight. Last time I went to one of their little 'games,' I ended up making out with Malfoy and Nott... at the same time," Ziva recalled, her neutral resting face had transformed to a fake gag with her index finger floating just above her tongue.

"You're joking! How does one end up snogging a git like Malfoy?"

"Be drunk. There's no way I would've done it if I was sober," she pursued the conversation with quality recollection of a drunken moment.

"You're crazy."

The two Ravenclaw girls drifted from the entrance of the Great Hall, proceeding to eagerly stroll down the mossed stairs towards the middle of the courtyard. A decorative fountain had stood in the core of the courtyard, filled with vines and shades of heather swathed around the olden stone that had risen just a metre over the bubbling forces of the water.

"That's true, I think Malfoy bragged about taking her virginity." Persephone emanated from a group of Hufflepuffs' with a sardonic grin that had stretched from each ear. The Hufflepuff girl recollected the disconcerting time Ziva was publicly slut-shamed because of an intense rumour that was brought up by Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson.

"Which he didn't. He's a fucking liar and that was when Blaise threw punches at him because Malfoy called me a slut." her frustration wasn't utterly oblique to the brunette. A wave of familiarity with being slut-shamed had enchanted into her mind— girls from Beauxbatons and Pansy.

Not Fleur Delacour, she was the kindest flower of all— a big sister she never had. Despite what happened in France, she still wrote letters to her. It was genial.

"Be weary of Draco, he's a full narcissist."

"Don't need to tell me twice. I would rather gauge my eyeballs out than do anything with him." Flora had gotten the impression that he was arrogant, self-centred and entitled— she was right. It was an obvious instinct.

"Ernie would never," she conversed with the irrelevant information of a Hufflepuff boy in the same year as the two Ravenclaws.

"Ernie? Hufflepuff guy?"

"Aha, yes. Ernest Macmillan, the Hufflepuff guy. Also known as Persephone's annoying boyfriend." Ziva's arm bundled around her shoulder with the intention of trapping the girl in the triangular formation of her arm. Wriggling out was possibly, the most difficult way out of her clutches.

"Shut up Zee."

Soft giggles were emitted from each of the girls, radiating the clouded skies with an ampleness of sunshine that had filled with sprinkles of precipitation building up once more to shower down. Persephone and Ziva were casually reminiscing about the earlier years of being at Hogwarts, reciting favourable memories and stories.

Flora lifted her head from the two friends, as she waved her head around to see the enclosed surroundings, buildings and corridors protruded from each nook of the castle.

A distinguished figure stood near the rickety wooden bridge that had spanned down towards the edge of the forest. A boy grounded to the stoned slabs, soulless void eyes had watched her, watching with no emotion. It was transparent, at least to the girl whom kept glancing from her friends and back to the younger boy.

It was the same boy with deep slashes down his torso. The boy who came to her mind earlier in the day when it had wandered from reality.

The boy with a deep ashy brown hair, darkened eyes of vengeance and a face similar to that of hers when she was five. It didn't look like Eros when he was younger. The boy had resembled her so much. A doppelgänger but in male form.

A deep gash traversed down his forearm, a fresh wound gaping with a sheathe of muscle and tissues secreting out with flows of blackened blood. Her eyes carefully travelled down to her right arm, a faint scar outlined her forearm with similarities to the boy's one. It was closed with a squishy texture to the supposed opening of the wound.

The younger boy urgently rushed his hands to his pockets. Her face changed to see that he had finally moved. Only his hands. His feet were still solid onto the surface of the pavement. A glint of shining steel had caught her gaze, lifting through the rays of the sun as he ran a singular finger on the blade of a small sized knife.

A small haunting child with a dark impulse to kill.

Her eyes couldn't conclude to what he was doing, other than sliding his finger deep into the sharpened razored edge. A sudden sting to her index finger had felt to her as if she had an intense paper-cut from the edge of a hardened parchment.

A slight sputtering reaction of the cut had softly produced from her mouth.

He began to slide the tip of the blade across his bared skin of his left forearm, adjacent to the existing wound they both shared. A prick from the tip had penetrated into her skin, starting from the radius of the elbow joint and slowly making his way down to the wrist. Her teeth gritted against each other, grinding in agony as the same cut had transferred to hers too.

Sharp pains revealed, splintering into fragments of each muscle around the wound.

Heart beats pulsing and elevating, stimulating the nervous system along with it. Her head raced within the blood flow, pumping to the crown and hallucinating the dizziness of losing blood. Excessive amounts of warm blood that had been infused with a rich hunter green mixed with drops of black.

_Hunter Green. Hunter. Laurent._

It wasn't normal.

Nothing ever was. Not with magic.

His forearm had crimson and onyx drips, circling and draping around his arm whilst hers continued to mirror his freshened wound. Perhaps she was just in a paralysing trance, because she too couldn't move her feet but only her hands. Her hands were enough to forcefully unpack her wand out of her robe pocket and pitifully gained a strong grip, despite the trembles of her fingers.

Fluttering whispers could be solely heard by the girl. Whispers of those that had belonged to Ziva and Persephone. They noticed the girl staring at nothing, her eyes flickering against the high winds and tugging on her robe because of a storm was strenuously appearing. Her body wouldn't budge, it was as if she were stoned to the floor. Like the boy.

His dried thinly fingers rested around the handle, bringing it close to his neck. Eyes narrowed, darting into hers with a devilish smile, that was of malicious and ghostly. The blade contacted with his skin, just underneath the thyroid prominence. However, projecting above her collarbone as a marked line began to guide the knife.

The tip of her wand vigorously pointed to the young boy.

The mind of Florina was wide awake along with her ears, feeling her body shake as pairs of hands hooked onto her shoulder. Her ears felt a ringing sensation as clamours from the two girls had amplified with every second she stood in the heavy downfalls precipitation.

The urge to throw spells at the boy began to grow, an impulse to just stop the boy from damaging her skin. She had to. A need to get the knife away from his neck. The more time she stood complementing, the less time she had to save herself.

A hallucination. A trance. Whatever the fuck it was, she had to be careful. This time, she had to be cautious.

" _Expelliarmus,_ " her wand waved to the right. An excruciating pain jolted around her body as the young boy disappeared.

Instead, a second year Gryffindor boy by the name of Dennis Creevey laid on the open floor, his body in a stillness state from the spell.

He had been hit to the head by an object that had been forced out his hand— backfiring the spell along with it.

Murky drizzle of rain had flooded the floor, levelling itself with the length of the thick heeled leathery shoes.

" _Fuck_ — _shit_. Flora, what did you do?" Ziva sprinted to the young boy. Her palms hovering over his face to stop the drops of rain from sinking into his nose and drowning his throat. "Help me carry him to the hospital wing."

Persephone gradually lifted from under him. His body weakened by the spell, sprawled on top of their hands. His hands arms and legs were flopping with each harsh step they took towards the hospital wing.

She couldn't help but stare longingly at the injured body who's head had crashed onto the gravelling pavements. The girl stared until they were no longer noticed beyond the thickly forested stoned walls that had caved around a corridor.

At least she hadn't used a bow and arrow on him.

Would've been thrown in Azkaban this time. A soul sucking wrench of a prison to be placed in.

The rain fiercely seeped onto her skin, melting at the touch of the warmth of her clearing skin. Her eyesight blurred against the veil between the cornea and the frozen atmospheric surface. Flora withstood the rain, her mind had taken her back to an unforgivable memory of 1994.

It was unforgivable, but she never cared for the victim.

_Hunter. Laurent._

It was the same grimly ambience tone as the forest she had snapped into a dark forcing trance. Herself, felt as if she were compelled with the Imperious curse. Doing an unforgiving bidding of dark magic to sustain from driving her own self mad. She felt as if she were already mad— mad like that hatter of a story she read in earlier years.

Flora's freshened cut had healed into a faint red spotting mark with light lines embedded around. A scratch of some sort. She had sworn that the scar was never there before . Was it?

Her waved hair had been fuzzed and ruined by the rain, damp and heavy weighted as she struggled to steadily keep herself straight without her head angling to the side.The urge to chop her hair short to her shoulders had began to impatiently grow.

The footsteps of hers had a distinctive sound of an elegant clink— even when she were scuffling them up those stairs.

Dusted cobwebs in the crannies of the arching doorway of the entrance to spiraling stairs of agony were noticed. Firmly lumbering herself up to the infamous hookup spot of the Astronomy Tower— except, it was just her. Only her.

The dulling afternoon with clouded skies had slowly cased around the castle in a dome. Murky mists were shadowed around the floors of the dark forest and, was easily seen from the view of the tower.

Her sighs paved the chilling breezes of fluttering winds had deliberately shifted from the innocent calmness to ranging bundles of chaotic energy. The tender skin of around the scar had commenced to a deep pain as she squished down on it. " _Ouch._ "

"What the fuck," her arm twisted around, viewing it from every tilted angle. She couldn't tell what was worse. The punishments by Umbridge or this— whatever _this_ was.

" _Hey_ ," a deepening familiar voice had interrupted her scarring thoughts.

Flora turned her head to see Adrian Pucey standing in the frame of the doorway. His body had rested against the thinly stoned walls of the arching passage. "Hi."

"I heard you knocked out some poor kid," his bodily frame dragged down next to her. Sprawling his feet apart of each other and reclining his upper body back with the supporting strength of his arms resting behind him. "I suppose it was an accident?"

"Yep."

"Let me guess what happened. You saw a little _demon_ boy with cuts and impudently tried to repel him away— right?" Adrian's breaths scattered by the chuckling noises from his mouth.

She didn't find it funny. One more wrong move and the younger boy would've died.

"He's real," she defended herself, however, she was the only person to witness the deathly boy. A boy whom had returned from a surprise hiatus— an unexpected return since last year.

"Yeah, sure. Okay," the older boy sarcastically nodded his head and jokingly agreed with her absurdity of a story.

"If you don't believe me— then, why are you here?"

"Because Flori, I wanted to see you." The boy warmly tightened his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer to the sheath of his neck.

His body felt warm. Tingled vibrations rippled throughout her body and numbing skin resulted from the freshened cool air.

Dusk had now appeared, arriving as the sun fell from the peaks of the forest trees. Clear nights were superior rather than dimly roiled skies that filled the starry sky. Stars lined up within a tangent in a closely ranged space, outshining and standing out from each other.

She studied the rhythm of the starlight twinkles, each star had a unique sparkle to it. Astronomy and Defence Against the Dark Arts were by far, her favourite classes— except this year, DADA wasn't quite a favourable one due to Umbridge's dictation.

Umbridge had a constant need to rule over Dumbledore with forceful actions of enforcing unnecessary efforts to introduce laws from the Ministry. She had a bitterness towards Nicholas Cates, whom had tried to expose the fraudulent wizards and witches of the Ministry— even after his death, Dolores Umbridge still had a resentment.

Perhaps throwing a knife to her head was too violent of a thought but probably would be praised by students alike.

Her scars itched, a burning sensation arose from the stillness of her arms. Picking the scab off from the wounds was entirely satisfying to watch and feel, feeling the prickliness of removing from the attached skin. It was odd to like but she was used to detaching excess dried blood from every scar she had.

Scars she never knew she had and where they came from.

Harry Potter had a distinctive lightning scar from Voldemort and shaped like the Avada Kedavra wand movement. Flora didn't know where she got hers from— wasn't from Voldemort. The scars looked as if she had been slashed with knives or from an animal scratch. A large animal like a— a werewolf.

Impossible, she had never seen one before and nor had ever been in close range with one either. 

It was all too much. Feeling rotted inside with secretions of blood dripping out of her wounds. She had a day when that happened— a closed cut would pour merlot blood. Unusual to say as she had never seen something like it before.

" _Are you okay_?"

She had wholly forgotten about Adrian's presence sitting next to her. It was easily a translucent aura of pure abandonment, her mind neglected the reality to dive into the spiritual aspect of her brain. The aspect of seeing the dead and corpses that had been between a fine veil of both worlds.

"Yeah, I'm just tired," the points of her nails had dug deeply into the scar, scratching endlessly with blood stained underneath the nail.

"Your— your arm," he clutched to her arm, feeling the strength of her resisting as he scanned around the fleshy covered wounds.

"I'm fine. I'm just going to go back to the Ravenclaw common room." Florina hoisted herself upward, grounding her feet against the smoothed tiles. "I'll see you later or tomorrow, which ever comes first." Her hands shook his fluffed up hair, shaking it affectionately before heading towards a secret passageway to the Ravenclaw tower.

The Ravenclaw passageway was used as an astute idea of a quick getaway when being chased by Filch. The walls caved in, narrowing the halls to fit a certain amount of bodies to and from the room— preferably could fit a line of three students.

Raven painted specks had embedded into the cracks of the tiled stoned walls that were placed between a few monoliths. Gold and silver linings were stroked alongside the panels, and complemented the blue shades— amongst the wooden floors.

Ravenclaw had the most amazing intricate designs, incorporated into the rooms— in her opinion. She hadn't seen the Hufflepuff rooms yet but was apparently the coziest common room of all of the castle interiors.

The Ravenclaw house was heavily affiliated with Astronomy and being one of the tallest towers of the castle— apart from the Astronomy and Gryffindor towers.

Ziva and Luna were laying on the carpeted floors, their heads close together and sharing one big floor cushion. Their eyesight in sync as Ziva held up a thickened book, immediate to their faces— reading along with their longing eyes.

Luna Lovegood looked ecstatic. Her eyes subtly peering towards Ziva, before briskly glancing back at the book.

Flora had always seen a joyful Luna, she was hardly ever sad. Although, her expressions of emotions were transparent through her dazing features— her eyes were filled with a lustre of emotions. Every time Ziva would talk affectionately about boys, Luna would hide behind a facade of happiness but she had truly wished that she was hers.

"Flora! Where did you go?"

"Astronomy tower," she smiled, walking over towards the two girls.

"The boy that you had accidentally hit with the spell was Collin's brother, Dennis. And do you know what he said to me?" her body jerked forwards, leaning against the foot stool.

"What?" Florina placed herself onto the velvety texture of the fabric covered couch. Her hands skimmed the same book that Ziva had been holding.

"I asked how he was doing and he said that he's always wanted to be hit with a spell. Crazy kid that one is," she continued, confused on how the younger boy was excited to be shot with a disarming charm.

"He's not upset?"

"Nah. He said that it was an honour to be hit by a— and I quote, ' _a pretty girl_.'"

"You have an admirer," Luna ran her pale fingers through the softened curls of her long hair— her hair ran down to at least the back of her legs.

"Merlin."  
  



	14. 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐇

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW | Slight depictions of alcohol and drug abuse.

**THE PECULIARITY OF SKIPS** against the eclipsing water had caused the stone to crash in the lake, alluding soft splashes. Her feet merely touching the shoreline of the Black Lake. It was the early dawn of the thirtieth of October— a day before Halloween and exactly the day of her birthday.

Morning dews of crisp water had each plopped onto various greenery that had surrounded the outskirts of the forest. It was dull. The lake had contrasted against the raging vibrancy of the nestled leaves.

The Earth was colder than usual. It wasn't wintering yet but it was urgently approaching. The stiffness of her legs had geared up again to carefully move without feeling the numbing pain and her soles against the rugged flooring.

The clouded grey translucent mist had scattered around the woodland, spreading rapidly with every blow of the galling winds.

Luna sat on the bare ground— a clearing with thinly twigs snapped underneath the jumble of leaves that had rustled by the pairs steps. The blonde girl's hands caressed the fur of an unknown object. It was difficult for the girl to see what Luna was holding and despite, her distance from the tree that the blonde sat under.

"You look nervous. It's your birthday, is it not?" Luna's soft voice, voiced-over the harsh blares of the gusts of wind. 

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," her bare feet tucked underneath her quirkily patterned ruffled skirt. It was mixed with assorted colours, a periwinkle main with magenta ruffles. It was unique to say, but it had fitted amongst her eccentric qualities.

Luna was possibly, the only one that could pull off such a novel style.

Her guesses were astronomically bewildering, but they were astounding. Murder, repressed feelings and her birthdate— to whom she had never told.

How many more correct assumptions could she make? 

"You truly amaze me."

Utter silence had overtaken the atmosphere, filling the forest with an essence of serenity. A serenity that had now become more awkward, rather than pure calmness.

"Do you think Zivy likes me? I can't tell for sure," her voice mumbled beneath the ghostly whistles of the breeze. It was quite plain to understand the dynamic feelings Luna had for her friend.

A platonic friendship— perhaps soon a relationship.

"Friends... yes but—"

"Have you ever had a past lover?" Luna continued, not wanting to hear more about her nonexistent relationship with Ziva. Instead, had taken a steer towards the girl with quite the questionable life.

"Yeah," her bottom rows of teeth had clinked against the upper ones while forcing her eyes to divert towards the gravelling pathway.

Flora's arms indecisively muffled around her body while warming herself with the excessively small blanket she took with her. Her stands were nervously grounding the floor, trying not to give away too much.

"Oh, I'm sorry— you don't have to tell me. I can see by your mannerisms that it was something serious and you might get in trouble if you say any details about how he _died_."

_Died?_

Death was a grimly subject— a subjective experience, with many discrete feelings and coping mechanisms of dealing.

It was a complete shock to hear Luna mention that. She'd never told anyone about her past boyfriend and how they broke up.

A forced breakup.

A _bloody_ forced breakup.

"How did yo— seems like you already know then," there wasn't a point in denying if Luna knew. She had an urgency to be honest, however, with honesty— there were boundaries.

But, how could she have known? There was absolutely no way she or anyone else could have guessed that.

"Not really."

Hearing her say that she didn't know what happened had signalled a relief in her. Butterflies had concluded their raging fluttering movements from out of her stomach.

The left of the girl was very much audible. Footsteps cast out to her, crunches amplified with every passing second. Her nose promptly twitched within the mediocre strength of the draught.

Neville Longbottom stood out in an etching sweater of a cream base with variegated warm colours that had been unwillingly splattered. Hues of cool were shaded from the warming tones. "Flora? Harry is asking about the— the meeting?"

"Right. Tell him that I'll go to one meeting, and see how it goes," she persistently threw more decorative stones into the water.

"Is that all?" his bodily physique had equipped to the raggedy flooring of the pressed gravels, that had been cemented in.

"Yep."

"The meeting is this afternoon," his small nod had initiated an awkward atmospheric tone, before slightly scooting behind.

"Alright. Thanks, Nev," the girl waved out. Her eyes still rested on the horizontal meeting of the juxtaposition between the dulled water and the scintillating sky.

The boy glimpsed back, his eyes opened with a surprising spirit. He'd been confounded by a nickname that wasn't an insult to him.

Short and sweet.

"Nev?"

"A nickname— you don't like it?" Florina queried the roughly taller boy.

"No, Nev is perfect." Neville's top right corner of his upper lip had slightly exposed upwards, flattered by the short nickname. His hand subtly swayed to the two girls, the wafting sound of the leaves through the wind had passed when he left.

Peace fell into the air, surrounding both Ravenclaw girls with the zen aura of mystery but subtle happiness. Warm tones of leafy petals had drifted around them— slowly intending to settle out of the wind and to the dampened ground.

Flora felt a bolt of déjà vu as the cool had contacted to her skin. She felt intrigued within the familiar feeling of the calming glacial weather, hadn't realised that she'd been standing there for a solid hour or two.

Luna didn't want to intrude or disturb her thoughts. It was a cleanse from the past months of being at Hogwarts. And it was amazing.

A desire to journey out from Hogwarts had lingered— impossible, as she was suffered to stay at Hogwarts and only in the United Kingdom until she would turn eighteen.

It was all French business.

"We should go, I have been standing here for an hour and you must be so tired," Florina set her eyes once more to the open body of water that had separated from the dryness.

"I'm not, but it's all fun waking up early," Luna prepared herself, forcefully hoisting up as she had managed to cling onto her items.

The pair guided themselves away from the Black Lake, a pleasurable amble through the outer region of the forest. Snapping twigs followed closely behind, working their way down the hillside of the entrance of the forest.

The castle stood high amongst the oak trees, it was a clear viewpoint amidst the clearing. The rocky flooring had disarrayed the gravels from the tightly packed path as they continued walking.

Luna did more than just walk— her flourishing skips placed her ahead of the other girl.

Flora couldn't grasp the concept of Luna teased for being herself, but that was perhaps because she was raised by a woman who embodied Luna. A woman who was sorted into Ravenclaw back in her time, and a free-spirited person with a gentle soul to the natural environment.

The girls toed around the back building, a hidden entrance that had to lead them straight to the spiralling stairs of the Ravenclaw tower.

"Ziva's probably not up yet," her fingertips felt the ragged texture of the compressed stoned wall, with the infusion of bronze between the cracks.

A decorative design to hide the fallen slab.

"She is," Luna pointed out.

Ziva swiftly stood up from the velveted royal couch, the couch that stood with a bronze wooden frame, that had matched the charm of the room. "Where did you two go?"

"The Black Lake," she shrugged, softening her shoulder tension.

"You two are such morning people," her tongue slightly poked out, relaxing her body as she paced towards their dormitory. "I was stuck with Michael in the common room, and I still have no idea what he was talking about."

Flora's fingers felt the sleek cover of a letter she had received, bearing the other one in her left hand. The letter had a lavender coating, with a mixture of painted florals of elegance. Soft, dried rose and orchid petals of a crepe pink had been placed delicately around the corner.

The inked curves of the handwriting were precisely centred. It was all neat.

She knew exactly who sent her the letter. Just judging the handwriting alone was easily recognisable— it had belonged to Fleur Delacour.

Ziva peered to the envelope, her eyes stuck onto the design. "Wow, that envelope is the prettiest thing I've seen," her fingers stroked the seemingly amusing texture.

"I know."

"Why is your name spelt ' _Fleurina,'_ on here?" her glances lifted from the single paper, focusing on the girl's facial expression.

"When I first arrived at Beauxbatons, Fleur was the one to show me around and get me settled in. And when I had told her my name, she heard me wrong and just called me that ever since. It's like a French version."

A subtle gasping breath had emitted from the girl, "Fleur? The same Fleur that had attended the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

"Aha."

"You're friends with Fleur?!" Ziva continued, praising Fleur's graceful features— a non-visual Veela effect. "What's that letter for anyway?"

"My bir— uhh, just to check up on me," Florina stuttered, struggling to maintain the word ' _birthday,'_ from escaping her mouth.

Birthdays were annual, another escalating step to the end— death was approaching. And fast. She didn't want to celebrate her birthday as much, thus, not wanting anyone else to know.

"Really?"

"It's her birthday," Luna chipped, her backside rested on the surface of the silken sheets, and with her head peacefully titled up.

"Luna!"

"Sorry, I could keep it in."

Wonderful girl Luna was, however, unable to keep to her honesty.

Florina effortlessly dragged her body to her bed, studying the uniqueness of the lettering from the exquisite material.

"Well then, we have to celebrate."

"No, no I'm good," she protested, annoyed by the idea.

She would've rather celebrated it by herself. Something about celebrating things by herself had made her feel a sense of comfort. Silly comfort.

"Nonsense, you shoul—"

"Hello," Cho Chang rushed to the girls' dormitory, her hands placed to the rim of the doorway. "Ziva, can I borrow something?"

"What?"

"Can I wear that one dress— the dress that you didn't like," her words were hesitant, remembering the time that Ziva brought a dress that did not look too good on her.

"Why?"

"For the party tonight? In the Slytherin common room?"

"What the fuck," she evinced a great display of shock, exchanging them with Flora. "What party?"

"Pansy's. She said that it's just a random party. Nothing important," she nattered on. Her voice conveyed disinterested tones, only wanting the dress to wear.

"That reptilian bitch!" Ziva was piqued by the intentional party that Pansy was throwing— hoping to piss the girls off even more than usual. "And no, go ask Marietta or Padma for one."  
  
  
  
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"Do you think I did a good job? Leading this organisation?" Harry's words coincided with the girl's footsteps as she was preparing to leave the room.

"A natural leader," she concurred with the boy, sauntering from the back steps to the front door.

"You think?"

Her modest nods had begun to note into his head, taking the useful information and slightly boosting his confidence.

"When are you going to start teaching about the Patronus Charm? I mean, no rush," she depicted how she had always wanted to know what her Patronus would be.

Her Patronus could be anything really— a personality of different animal traits.

"Next meeting. Will you be there?"

"Yes! Definitely," Flora departed from the boy, waving him off as she hurried to meet with Luna and Ziva. Her paces slowed, downing the echoes of her shoes and hopefully not running into Umbridge.

The two Ravenclaw girls were unnoticed, their bodies roughly behind a pilaster, and with their eyes sharply examining the surroundings.

The dimmed corridors were clear, clear of Filch, and clear of Umbridge. Ziva and Luna were the ultimate pair of friends, to say, they were similar but yet, so different from each other.

The girl ushered behind them, wrapping her arms fittingly around their shoulders, as a wide like grin softened.

"Finally! What took you so long?"

"I was asking Harry about some other spells," her hands had then clasped to both of the girls, merely skipping to the destination.

The stoned walls deepened in colour as they dove down to the dungeon floors. The party wasn't held in the Slytherin common room, but rather an empty hidden room within the dungeons.

They weren't exactly invited by Pansy Parkinson, however, by Adrian instead. It felt obsessive, but it was a party hosted on the day of her birthday— why not crash it?

The adorned layout had been eased when an arching wooden door with the iridescence of green spiked throughout the exterior had made its appearance. It was a clear attempt of a bland exterior design of decorative doors.

Locked within the magic, their eyes followed down to the front locks, rows of locks had been staring at them with a desire to be unlocked.

Professor Snape could be pouncing at them at any second, seconds wasting as Ziva sturdily held her wand to the door.

" _Alohomora."_

The muffled tones of an abundance of noises from each area of the largely sized room had emerged with the swing of the door. The vibrations of the air had surpassed the first party that the girl had attended to.

Pines of green had washed the interior walls with flashes, flashes that had emitted from every direction, and while enhancing the feel of the Slytherin party.

The only invited students were of those that were in the fifth year and up.

Translucent greying smoke had swayed by the movements of each student, producing around the bodies and circling in the atmosphere.

Luna's focus was on the swirls of pastel blue and pink, mixing in an odd object. She wasn't too fond of these parties, however, an instinct mentioned that this one was going to be good.

Feasibly, a dramatic night, and filled with pure angst. 

Ziva narrowed hers to the flickers, the flickers that were intentionally made to practically blind people whose eyes directed towards it. "This isn't the best," she hated to admit, but it was.

"Don't lie, it's pretty good," Florina felt a tumble of excitement when she saw Adrian. The excitement that would soon turn to lust, watching him and unknowingly blocking out Ziva's comments.

"You're not bothered that it's your birthday... and she's having a party for herself?"

"Huh? Oh, no I'm not," she answered, the waves of the music had filled her eardrums with a ringing sensation. "It's a party, come," her grasps had clung to both girls.

Crowded by fleshes of students, the trio squeezed through, aiming to briskly attend to where the beverages were located. Beverages that had ranged from Fire Whiskey to a fruity alcoholic spiked drink in a deep glassed bowl.

"Hellooo," a deep voice neared to the girl, towering over her from behind. Adrian was refilling the contents of his cup, mixing the whiskey with the fruited beverage— adding a stilling substance into it.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long."

"Thank You for telling me where the party was," she thanked. Liquids from inside her cup had splashed against the rim, as she connected it to her mouth.

"Anything for the birthday girl," he leaned close to the roof of her ear, whispering sensually.

Flora could hear the older boy perfectly, despite the blasting music, and that was perhaps because her hearing was just focused on each other.

Ziva and Luna espied the pair, quietly observing as they began to note their fourth wheeling antics. "I feel like Luna and I are interrupting something.."

"Nah," her eyes glued to the cup, feeling as if she had forgotten a bit of something in her drink. "Can I have that thing that you poured into your drink?"

"Yeah," his hands rummaged to the side pocket, pulling out a miniature cleared packet— substances filled inside.

It was wrong to give the girl something she had struggled with, a tone-deaf response to her past. 

A dark past.

The days of drowning herself with the alcoholic beverage and substances that she endured because of the grief of both Cedric and her ex-boyfriend's death in the past year.

But her mind had forgotten about that, only just for the night.

" _Drugs_?"

"Sort of... it's like an enhancement? But don't tell my brother though," her words were trusted with the other girl.

"Okay, that's too much!"

" _Shit._ I wasn't paying attention," her pinky finger swirled the substance to the liquid, mixing in until it was just a green pigmented drink. "Do you want some?" her sight turned back to the two girls.

"No, I'm good," Ziva shook her head slowly, her eyes stuck to the contents. "Where did you get it?"

"Nott."

"That makes sense."

It was a wonder how the entire castle wasn't quaking furiously, the floor felt as if there was a whole earthquake that had erupted.

"I should mention that— uhh, a side effect of it makes you really horny," Adrian's lips tightened against each other, holding the urge to chuckle.

"Are you fucking serious? I drank that. I just came to the party— _not_ fuck people," expressing frustration was the last she wanted to feel that night.

"I forgot to say."

"Now that does sound like something Theo would make," Ziva's gaze scattered over the crowds of bodies dancing with each other.

"Damn him! It tastes good."

"I'm going outside, it's kind of overwhelming in here." Luna tugged to Ziva, guiding away from the pair and to the desolated doorway, the door that was far from the other students.

The girl began to down more of her drink, however, rather not concerned about the ' _side effect,_ ' as she would preferably not waste it.

"Did you forget about what I told you about the effects?"

"Nope," her mind was oblivious to her affected self. The substance had precisely kicked into her system, just a few sips and it was hastily embedded in.

"Merlin."

"Come dance," Flora clenched to his arm, while her other hand held onto a bottle of whiskey that had been infused amidst the drugged substance, and gliding through the hunter tiled flooring.

Her hands coasted to his shoulders, resting them just above, and with her arms cloaked around. His had laid to her waist, respectively placed in a comfortable area.

The chemicals had pressed into her system, a large consumption had elevated her mood. Adrian hadn't drunk as much as she did, but, kept it strictly together.

The plumping nude flesh of her lips had joined to the bottle, sipping senselessly as her body swayed with his. Their paces were in rhythm to the hedonistic existence of the beating music.

The girl's body brushed against his body, as her head laid back into the nook of his neck, she felt the sensation of his lips roughly touching her neck— and before turning to face the boy.

It felt as if they had been dancing for what had felt like hours when only it was minutes. They had been in each other's stares for an extensive time, and completely losing track of all time.

Florina fixed her eyesight right into his, lustfully showing a reaction from the drink she had consumed. She couldn't care less of those around them, she just wanted him. And only him.

Perhaps it was just the drugs prattling, but she didn't mind that. She didn't mind any of it.

The girl pressed her hand to his, dragging them down below her back, and downwards to her rear. Her resistance to kiss him had declined, declining while the rate of the fumbling butterflies in her stomach had increased.

But she did.

Their fourth kiss in fact— she recalled the first two times behind her brother's back, they were fourteen and had only subtly flirted with each other. Nothing serious.

She had felt guilty after that, and that was only because she had fancied Cedric Diggory back then. But he wasn't hers, they weren't together— so why feel guilty?

It was all childish stuff.

But not the current moment.

Her toes slightly pointed to the floor, and her heels had elevated up. Her arms still wrapped around his head, while his hands had still connected to her ass.

The girl's lips had affixed to his, starting with the softness of the bottom lip, slightly biting as he pushed his tongue to hers.

Her cheeks felt the hidden whiskery bristled texture of his skin, and her bodily frame collided with his but also feeling his slight ' _excitement,_ ' against her body.

Pansy Parkinson eyed the pair, furrowing with envy as she stared deathly at their movements. Her fingers tapped to Draco, who was excessively fiddling with the silvers around each of his fingers.

He didn't budge— but would rather spend his time drinking gallons than dance with Pansy. She annoyed him. Really fucking annoyed him.

Theo beamed a great grin to Flora and Adrian, he was glad to see that the wizarding drugs that he had created, had indeed made students feel a series of euphoria.

Euphoria to get everyone through the distressing year.

Perhaps, it was too powerful.

" _Fuck—_ you're so fucking hot," Adrian groaned gingerly, cautious of the surrounding teenagers.

His hands had roughly grabbed to her thighs, lifting her body to his waist. The girl's legs had tied around his hips, locking him in the clutches of her legs, and her hands grasped to his cheeks.

Their lips once more had grazed against each other, sensually feeling the warmth of their breaths seeping inside.

He genuinely wanted to pin her against the wall. Just the two of them. No one else watching.

She was undoubtedly, turned on by the way he lifted her, but also the substance she had taken. Aroused to the feeling of the party, she wanted to do more, more than a snog.

Her eyes darted right back to his, an intoxicating thought had rushed to her mind. A deranged idea it was. Very much. "Would it be inconvenient if I asked you to fuck me right here?"

"I—What? You're joking right?"

"No."

"Flora, you can't do it here. I think you consumed too much of Nott's creation," he fulminated. He broke from her arms as he took a step back, she was too deep into the effects of the substance and didn't want to take advantage of that.

"Weren't you just kissing me?"

"There's a difference between that and overstepping it," he differentiated between both of the thoughts, the thoughts that made him unnerved.

"Okay?"

"Fucking hell. You're really out of it," he splintered, courses of frustration rushed throughout his body, and as his eyes were attentive to hers.

The green flickers had dimmed down into stillness, the room was now filled with green smoke— a hallucination of smoke to ensure that no one had breathed it.

"Do you want me to get your brother?"

"No."

"I'm not going to have sex with you here," the concept of other people watching him fuck people didn't glide with him. He would rather do it in private, but not that night. "Give me the bottle."

"No," her arms were brisk, not lacking the strength of her reflexes.

"Flora, give me the bottle," he seethed, demanding the strong alcoholic beverage. The older boy had worried about the others around, and fortunately, the music was still blaring out loud.

"Rather not."

"Flori, I'm not fucking asking. _Give_ me the bottle," his vexation had intensely developed to anguish. Her stubbornness was raised with the drug, and it was fucking hard to maintain it.

"And I said _no._ I came here to party, not being bossed around."

"I'm not bossing you around. What the fuck." It was entirely clear to them that the lustful mood had been ruined by their bickers.

"Then fuck off," her blunt tones had muddled with the boy. She felt the need to be straightforward, perhaps, it was too harsh.

"Excuse me?"

"You want the bottle? Okay then," the bottle had deliberately slipped from her fingers, heavily falling with no resistance.

Glass fragments had shattered from the bottle, fracturing the material of the bottle as the liquor contents had pooled out. His eyes had outrageously stared to the ground, the ground that was now filled with a sticky surface.

The breaking of the glass had not interrupted the blasting of the music everyone around them had treated it as an accident. Horny teenagers were still aroused by each other to not notice the pair.

"What the fuck," he muttered, irritated expressions approached within his features.

Her head felt heavy on her shoulders, blackened fuzzy spots had appeared to her sight, and following her eyes as she glanced around the crowds.

She had discerned the feeling that she was about to regurgitate, or worse. A fainted feeling had shaken over her body— she felt herself being dragged down by the air, a push to the ground as she had collapsed.

Black had now permeated her sight. 


	15. 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒

**NUMBING PAINS HAD CHILLED HER BODY**. A mildly feeling of penitence had been closely mused throughout her mind. It had been as if she had sagged to the descending flooring— a dizzy sensation of falling deep into a bottomless voided extent.

Except, she couldn't revive her past eyesight. The last she had remembered was a blacked vision.

Saturated hospital blankets were exposed by the rays from the window. Golden tones of tangerine and light butterscotch were enhanced by the garish of the sun.

It was all bright now.

The short case of amnesia had ridden— almost.

Her mind still ached, aching with the pulsing beats of her thrumming brain. Not acknowledging the sharp pricks of her deep scars that ran along her torso.

The scars had been there for a while, however, overlooking the time when she had received it.

"I want to fucking bash my head in," her muttering voice had softened under the intensity of her headache.

"Violent," Adrian peered out the corner, placing a seat next to the singular bed. "Do you remember anything?"

Minutes of pensive silence had caught up, imageries weren't too clear to the girl, "all I remember was going to the party. The party that Pansy threw last night."

"Last night? Do you mean a week ago?"

"What?"

"I think those substances really took a toll on you," cackles had generated from his concerned voice. His body reclined, slumping in a comfortable position in the chair

Her eyes were absorbed onto the warmth of her body, heating up within the tightly knitted blanket that covered her frame. "Can I ask you about that boy I saw? I tell you everything and— _and,_ I just don't know who it is."

"Flori, that boy isn't real. He's just a hallucinating image of a child, perhaps you saw someone like him," his exterior attitude had advanced into agitation.

"Right, but—"

"He's not real. There aren't any buts."

"When did you become my brother?" Flora interrogated him, comparing his demanding response to Eros.

"Strange, I could've sworn that you kissed me... but I'm your brother?.... definitely makes sense."

"Fair point, but could you recall what happened?"

"You drank from a bottle which the liquor had been mixed with Nott's disaster of a creation, and asked to shag in front of everyone while the lights were still dim. And then, you dropped the bottle on the ground because you got the shits."

"Fuck. I'm sorry," she could feel the embarrassment smashing into her headache, and nervous flutters pulsing within the beats of her heart.

She felt the pain of sole guilt over his recollection, and the loss of control of her mind as the substance had completely fucked her brain.

Euphoria had fucked her mind badly.

But, it was healing now— a sheer rejuvenation.

That wasn't the only thought in her stubborn subconscious. A haunting vision of the night when she and Theo had explored the emptiness of the chamber.

However, it wasn't as empty as they thought.

Secured threads of bristles had strung together, strengthening the knotted rope with ambition. An ambition to be tied to the rotting corpses.

_Their rotted corpses_.

Bodies of Theodore Nott and Florina Cates had been strung with the rope, the rope had anchored around each of their arms. Stringing their stiff frames to an unknown attachment— she had no idea what the rope was connected to, to heave them upward.

Perhaps it was another illusion, a bewitching tragedy to imprint a burning scar into her mind. The senseless death of the pair.

Flora could vividly see her helpless body, a black laced gown had swathed her. The dullness of her hair had draped over her face, the face with no features. Just the smoothness of the skin, underneath the trickles of fine blood, infused within the water.

Water had dribbled from her corpse, pouring onto the flooring— her whole body had been ruined with water.

It was fear.

It wasn't the first encounter with a malicious intent to trigger the young girl further. It was rather a dark fictitious idea to provoke her to harm, and more. More that was so unforgivable, but, she had already done the unforgivable.

And it was all connected.

"Flora!"

"No shouting Mr Nott!" Madam Pomfrey scolded, her eyes irritatingly darted to his slowing paces.

"Alright! Chill," Theo's eyes rolled with the turn of her head— resuming her duties to another patient in the wing. "I wasn't even shouting."

"Nott, What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologise for concocting something that could've killed you if you consumed just a little more," his body rested from heaving his chest, spitting out a rather vague apology.

"What? What do you mean it could've killed me?"

"I might've added some potions that I didn't know of, and one of them might've been a sleeping draught," he muttered, sufficiently hoping to make amends with her.

"So, do you just add random ingredients to your pathetic creations?" Adrian sharply spoke, reflecting the negative energy from inside and plastering it on his face.

"Yeah, b-but to make it up, I received three months detention and got almost a hundred house points taken off and was almost expelled," his faint nods had vanished when Adrian gave him a stern look.

"Intense," Flora inclined towards the boy and had completely disregarded the accidental attempt at murder.

Theo's body straightened, turning his brows up in a staggering manner, "you're not mad?"

"Nah."

Distant silence had fuelled into the room, filling the surroundings with intense repression of Adrian's deathly stares at the younger boy. It was painful to see the trio sitting in an air of uncomfortable tranquillity.

"So..."

"Shut up Nott," he demanded, his eyes pierced onto the boy's face.

"Cool, Cool."

"Can you two leave me alone now, I'm tired," the girl downgraded the tension, requisitioning the boys to move from the hospital wing.

Her body had regenerated energy into her systems, cleansing of the negative experiences she had felt from the past weeks.

It was enjoyable to have some quality alone time— however, despite being in the school's fusty hospital wing, infusing the air with scents of potions and more.   
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  


The left corridor of the seventh floor was quite abandoned, hazy candlelit lanterns were scattered throughout the stoned walls.

A miserable tone of voice had interrupted the girl's tracks, forcefully gliding herself against a desolated wall while hiding from the voice. It was deep, perhaps Filch had been severely ordered by Umbridge to check the castle.

A tinge of tangerine and dimmed lemon had escaped through the darkened hallway, colliding against the wall next to her.

She knew she was about to be caught.

" _Psst_ ," a mumbling voice called to the girl.

Her head hesitantly followed the slight echo, another corridor had been hidden behind the wall she was leaning against. Neville stood out, signalling her with the swishing movement of his right hand.

The girl toed towards the boy, lightly treading from the thickness of the floor, and speeding cautiously to avoid being in Filch's eyesight.

The pair promenaded to a blank wall, glancing around as they had mysteriously walked past a few times, intending for the DA meeting. The door had unveiled itself, bricks moved in different locations to reveal the wooded doorway.

The room had a feeling of a ghosted presence, the brisk cold atmosphere had circled in the cool tonal shadows.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stood before her, awaiting the arrival of the rest of the students. Their gazing eyes were set on the pair.

Flora noticed a board in the far corner of the room, a noticeable picture of Cedric Diggory had been placed to the side of the board. She didn't remember seeing it there when she had first attended the meeting— it was as if he too were attending these meetings.

A spectator in honour.

She leisurely ambled to the picture, her eyes sorrowful, and pained on his ghostly face, his smiles had softened with every glance. He was dead, but he was alive in the room— the essence of his spirit had floated around.

He was here, and she could feel it.

"You know, he's always here," Neville solaced with the girl, his eyes smiling at the photo of his parents, skin crinkled around the eyes.

"It's hard to get over it," her head angled to see a tilted viewpoint of Cedric's picture.

"You don't have to get over it, you can just acknowledge it."

Flora tenderly nodded, and as her head turned to see students gathering near the trio— cheers of exultation had erupted, knowing that they were about to learn the Patronus Charm.

That was all had wanted to learn, and finally, discover the animal guardian that truly signifies her in a hopeful way.

Not hope, but maybe _death._

Death was a reoccurrence; the death of her father, the death of Cedric and the death of—

"Alright! Listen, now I know that most won't be able to produce it on the first go, but the Patronus Charm is one of the most difficult spells to cast," Harry elucidated, his voice echoed within the walls with clear information.

Her sole focus was heavily dependent on delivering a fabrication of her Patronus.

"It is not only useful to fight off dementors, but it can be used as a communication tool," he continued. "Okay, spread out now."

Clatters amongst the students were scattered throughout the room, the hollowing echoes had bounced.

Flora stood near Ziva and Luna, sliding her wand from the edge of her pocket and clasping onto it while strengthening the excitement.

Her wand had been decorated with wooden carvings of orchids that were delicately placed around the surface of the Dragon heartstring core. A purple lustred marble had been positioned on the bottom of her wand.

It was sturdy with resistance to failure.

"Exciting isn't it?" Ziva supposed, her wand in the clutches of her loose grasp while conversing with the two girls.

"Okay, remember to say ' _Expecto Patronum_ ,' while thinking of something meaningful— you have to mean it," Harry concluded, packing in the practical information on casting such a difficult spell. "And, we will work on the charm after Christmas too, so it's okay if you don't achieve it today."

Mumbling chatters began to escalate, slowly rising the tension between students and their wands. The phrase was thrown in tones of frustration and confusion.

Flora couldn't think of anything meaningful, there was nothing meaningful about envisioning a demon with cuts that sprained to his body. There was nothing significant about her life.

No matter how many memories she had saved, it still didn't work.

"Harry, can I ask you something?" her body stood adjacent to him.

"Sure."

"What did you think of when you first cast it?" The question had boggled his mind, remembering the very first time he had cast the spell.

"It depends, but I first saw my parents," he replied within a transparency of emotions— a hidden facade of sorrow.

Her head slightly bumped up and down in her nods, gradually returning to her friends— who were still figuring out the magic of a Patronus.

" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Ziva was astounded to see silver strokes mixed with silvery sapphire tints surrounding her. The translucent colour had softened when her Patronus galloped _pridefully_ around her— it was a unicorn.

"H-how?"

"I thought of something I desired," she answered, glints of radiating happiness had conveyed within the irises of her eyes.

"What do you desire?" Flora queried, her hopes of achieving the spell would not diminish by the lack of memories.

"I'd rather not say, it's pretty personal."

"That's okay," the girl resumed, focusing her mindset away from death. A quintessence of death would be watching her father be murdered by Death Eaters or the thought of Cedric dying in the hands of a dark wizard.

With every swirl of the wand, she was beginning to grow impatient, a tendency of frustration began to swell. All hope was lost, and her confidence had unnerved by the clear fright of never being able to produce the charm.

Luna was still struggling, her dazing eyes were wandering the interior walls, watching the success of a few silvery strokes from various wands. She didn't look like she was struggling, but her expression was more confused as if someone had said that 'nargles were a figment of her mind.'

The memory of her and Cedric riding muggle bicycles in the summer of '87 had resurfaced— but it wasn't enough.

Other memories included; her obtaining a set of daggers and knives for her eighth birthday, her first kiss at the young age of six and being gifted a pet Raven for her tenth birthday named, _Arius._

They were almost close to the producing of the charm.

However, it still wasn't as strong.

Deep sighs had breathed out, perhaps she needed to make more memorable ones, or just strengthening her happy thoughts.

Harry had promised to help with it more after Christmas, and she took his word for it. 


	16. 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT chapter
> 
> TW | Mentions of blood, needles, cuts and drugs

**FLORA'S ARMS SWAYED IN SYNC** with the brisk mildewing winds. She walked down the pathways of the forest grounds, venturing out of the woodlands and towards the next class.

Ziva sauntered alongside the girl, her mind clouded with an elated grin of success from producing a Patronus. "I really want to know what the Unicorn Patronus means."

"Perhaps it means you're colourful? Y'know, because they have rainbow colours," she answered, her eyes grazing over the natural jagged pathway.

"Rainbow?"

High winds forcibly swirled around the air, dragging the flaps of their robes and controlling it with every might. The atmosphere had collectively smeared musty scents of dampened clothes from the loch — perhaps even a day old.

Care of Magical Creatures was what they were diverting from, it was perplexing to discover different species of creatures. However, Thestrals was what she had hoped to study more.

The skeletal horses with the sleek midnight wings were compelling to her. And she was invested in finding more information.

The Ravenclaw girls strode alongside the end corridors of the Transfiguration Courtyard, stepping with every enthusiasm they had tried to indulge. Transfiguration class wasn't quite the favourite for her, but McGonagall wasn't too bad.

" _Ahem,_ " a pitching voice rang annoyingly throughout their ears.

The pair whipped their eyes, their head lagging as they saw Umbridge in her usual fashion of magenta and blushes of soft pink on the fleece of her plumped frame.

"We aren't late to class," Ziva complained of frustration.

"I need to have a word with Miss Cates. Miss Zabini, you can head to class," her thick fingers guided the girl towards McGonagall's classroom.

Flora's heart rate upheaved anxiously, throat tightened with every whimpering breath. She was nervous to know why Umbridge had kept her back from going to class.

She would be thankful for not going to class — but it was Umbridge who held her back.

"Come," she ordered, ordering her as if she were a misbehaving animal that should've been dragged on by a rope.

_A fucking misbehaving animal._

The heels of her leathery shoes had clacked roughly against the tiling floors of the thickened stone. Echoing a disturbance that transmitted effortlessly around the castle hallways.

Lanterns dwelled amongst the misshapen gravelled panelling of confined rocky textures. A coarseness of stones compressed together with no liability for breaking into cracks of fragile gravels.

She always felt that. Felt a bottle of agitation squeezed inside of her cellular structures, about to splinter and break into fragments of her bones.

Her bones were far from brittle, but testing her patience would be her strength snapping like an older lady's frailties of her bones with a flick of the pinky finger.

Umbridge had persistently persuaded the girl to sit still in the chair of her decorative office. Insisting on the younger girl to _tell no lies_.

"Now, I am aware that you have a proclivity for getting into trouble. Is that so?"

"No," her sluggish shrugs softly denounced the involvement towards trouble.

She wasn't troubled — she didn't think she was. Although, she liked standing up for herself, and her aggression would hopefully earn her a spot on the Quidditch team for the next trials.

Perhaps even Captain in her seventh year, after dethroning Roger Davies.

"I'm going to ask you this once, where are you holding your extracurricular 'activities,'" her body heavily thudded on the creaking chair.

"I have no idea what you are talking about Professor," she acted in a befuddling tone of expression, utterly messing with the woman.

"If you don't confide with me... then I'll just have to out you to the Daily Prophet," Umbridge threateningly toppled the exposure of releasing information to the Wizarding papers.

"Out me? I do not know what you are referring to."

"Murder."

Flora's eyes jolted, scrambling around see her wand completely in stillness over her decorative china plate.

"Oh, dear. Did I trigger a panic?"

The girl pushed her body away from her slumping position, and towards a confident stride. "Professor, you are threatening a student and accusing me of an obscure assumption?"

"I have all the proof I need to give them."

"I regret to inform you that I've never been involved in a ' _murder_ ,'" Flora's raging heart had lazily dropped back into place, steady beats began to pulse with confidence.

"Lying isn't the only thing that's going to get you into trouble, Miss Cates. Now, tell me where do your friends sneak off to in the afternoon?"

"I think I should go back to class."

"YOU WILL NOT LEAVE UNTIL I GET THAT ANSWER!"

"Consider yourself waiting for a very long time," she felt her backside stationing against the rigidity of the splintered wooden chair. Relaxing the tension of her muscles and shoulders.

"I should've known that you inherited an ignorant trait from your traitorous father. I think the Death Eaters just did us all a favour by killing him. Don't you think?" The older lady heavily pressed her palms against the rim of her desk, and furiously eyeing the girl.

The distilling sugary beverage of her scent had escaped from her body, and contaminating with infusing into the girl's cherry scent. It smelled like fruit that had been rotten in piles of sugar and minted tea.

She hated mint. It made her sick. The way the strong fiery tang had collapsed in the back of her nostrils, clogged there at a time.

Made her sick the way that Umbridge was leaning over her with a putrid collaboration of all different flavours.

"Highly debatable," she retorted.

"Hm, I have requested for my Inquisitorial students to keep an eye on you. Lead by Mr Malfoy," her fleecing material had brush alongside her bare hands, delicately opening the arched door with pride. "You can go."

_'Fuck, finally.'_

Florina cautiously exited from her office, tints of rouge had infiltrated her sight, influenced by the laborious attention to Umbridge's royally pink decor.

Her legs moved quickly, gaining a quickening pace from the room.

She didn't care if she rammed into a stiffened monolith that had magically risen from the trenching depths of the floor. It was better than being in her eyesight.

Furious winds had pushed past her, feeling herself stumble onto the rough surface of tiles. The girl gazed up to see the blond boy dusting his robes in disgust.

"Why the fuck do you keep running into me?!"

"I-"

"Why is it so hard to watch where the fuck you are going? Blind bat," his harsh tones enunciated the words.

Her body heaved forward, dragging her legs and grounding herself steadily to the floor. "Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too? Disgusting slag," he scoffed, pulling his head away from the girl. And glancing to the glinting shimmers of the reflectivity from the silvers of his rings.

"What did you just call me? A slag?"

"Yeah, I did, because you are one."

"Oh, I get. You're a misogynistic prick who loves to shit on people because you think you are superior, but you wouldn't last anywhere without daddy's protection.... _or his money_ ," the girl spoke exactly from her mind — no hesitation to see his expression become less transparent.

"Wait until my fa—"

"Isn't that phrase getting a little too old? I mean, I thought by now you would've at least stood up for yourself. But I guess you proved me right when I said that you needed his protection," she didn't stutter. Her voice was clear to the boy, she didn't want to hold back.

"Just you wait, wait until I—"

"No, you're going to be the one waiting for when I fuck your dad."

Except, she wasn't the first one to _threaten_ a Malfoy with that idea. Her mother already did that — and more.

"What did you say?" his fingertips grazed over the splintering surface of his wand, clutching in anguish and pulling out of his pocket. "St—"

Before he could finish the spell, Flora had already replaced his words with a muttering incantation, her wand tip softly pointed away.

Draco Malfoy was on the ground, his body had now become furry and smaller in frame. The tinting hues of silver and ash were scattered amongst his fur — he had appeared as a badger.

Florina had cursed him to become a badger. It was temporary but she used it to her advantage.

"Why you look like you belong in Hufflepuff. Let's take you there then," she teased. The badger was tucked securely in her arms and tightly wrapped in spare cloth.

It was noon, and lunch had just approached. Students had rerouted towards the Great Hall from each class they had attended.

She noticed Persephone's charismatic stances before heading towards the Hufflepuff basement. The girl closely followed her, footsteps treading heavily against the floor as she had caught up with the Hufflepuff girl.

"Hi Flora," she smiled.

"Hello, could you let me in the common room so I could put this away?" her arms slightly lifted the animal that had been buried in grimly pieces of cloth.

"Who is it for?"

"Zacharias."

Zacharias Smith was the first person to intrude her mind. She had only heard of him because Cedric had talked about his fellow Hufflepuff mates, and he had seemed like a person to have a badger as a pet.

He was also the insufferable idiot who chatted shit during all the DA meetings.

The pair entered into the Hufflepuff common room, through the nook of the handle from a stack of piling barrels. Luckily to the girl, no one else was in the room except the two girls.

"I'm going to head to the Great Hall. Just drop it over there," Persephone extended her index finger, bearing it towards a centred table filled with loaded books before she left.

The room was situated low below the ground level of the castle grounds. Warming textures of bronzing wood and dark tints of canary mixed with natural earthing colours compelled the dark shadows away.

Velvets of dandelion had draped over the textured fabric of the couches, blooming a little nature to the seating area.

It truly was the perfect sun ray of happiness. The Hufflepuff common room was now a favourite of the girl.

The Ravenclaw girl noticed a cranny in the potted surface below the bushes of ferns and grass, scattered throughout the soils.

It was perfect to place him in. A little hidden but it was temporary.

"There you go," she gently plopped him to the stenches of the earthy aroma of the dampened surface. "Where you belong — in the dirt."

Chittering squeals nestled around the bushes, digging into the soils in anxiousness. The badger with a tinged spot of cavernous pine greens had dispersed the length of the potted floor.

He was stuck. And she had hoped that he would stay there for a little longer before transforming back into a whiny Slytherin boy.   
  
  


━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  


Ebony ink had splattered across the stained parchment, the paleness began to seep under the dark. She wasn't focused on the dripping taps of her quill, but rather glazing her eyes to the restricted section of the library.

The intrusive thoughts of turning Draco Malfoy into a helpless badger had crowded her fulfilling mind, soaking in the jubilation.

The right corner of her upper lip peeked noticeably upward. It gave Adrian the impression that she was smiling because she had spilt the ink over her unwritten parchment.

"Flora, watch it!"

"Huh? _Fuck_ ," her fingers raced to the leak.

The ink had smudged, burying her fingerprints underneath the deep liquid. A mess it was to take off, as she struggled to maintain the ink from escaping to her clothes.

"I have something in my dorm that will get rid of that," he proposed while helping the younger girl with cleaning the table.

"You don't have your wand with you?"

"It's in my room," his arm extended to her, clutching on the delicacy of her fingertips and grazing against each other as he forwarded her up.

The library was still in operation, a closing time had almost commenced — an hour before curfew.

The girl's hands were marked by the inking stain, seeping through the thin layers of her top flesh, and ingested in a fresh wound.

A potential poison.

The Slytherin boy and the Ravenclaw girl stalked the corridor floors with the heaving steps of enclosed leather shoes. And appearing to the front entrance of the Slytherin common room.

" _Serpentine,_ " he maffled to the blank rows of stone, surfacing a distinctive emerald outline of the rim of the door. His hand squeezed over the handle, gripping with force as veins had protruded from the skin of his hand.

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini were the only students in the common room, lazily rested on each couch. Theo noticed the pair walking to the dorm of Adrian and Eros, gradually slipping his thumb up at them.

"I think Nott has the wrong idea," she whispered, turning from the boy on the couch and back to the older Slytherin.

"What did he do? I wasn't looking."

"Nothing," her head shook from his question, dismissing him while entering the dormitory. "Let's just get myself cleaned up."

"Is my brother doing his Head Boy duties?"

"You mean storming the castle floors at night and trying to catch people out of their dormitories? Then yes," he waved his finger over the contents of the dresser, revealing a small syringe.

"What's that for?"

"It's going to extract the ink from the tissue," he stood closer, carefully examining the wounded skin of her hand.

"That is such a Muggle method."

"Best of both worlds I guess," he shrugged, grazing his fingertips onto her skin, tenderly gripping to her arm while lifting the top of the object.

The cleanliness of the tube had been ruined by the infused ink with clots of her bloodstream. It was almost unbearable to look at. But she didn't mind looking at blood — just not her own.

"I didn't mean to take that much out," he expressed concern from the variable amount as he pointed the tip of his wand to her cut. " _Ferula,"_ he muttered. Small bandages had strapped around her hand, tightly swathing it.

"Thanks," the girl cradled her injury, protecting it with the cover of her other palm of her hand.

Getting injured was now a traditional routine for her. It was normalised to an extent that she hadn't realised she stabbed her hand with the tip of the leaking quill.

She had no control over mind and her limbs sometimes. Sometimes she would slice her body — anywhere around her body, and image disturbing hallucinations. She hadn't realised that she'd been doing it.

They were almost all impulsive attempts. And it was her fault that he had passed.

_Her mind took over and she watched him die._

Her body had collapsed against the slithering sheets of Adrian's bed, feeling settled in the comfort of the dormitory.

"You're not going to sleep on my bed, are you?" he posed, cautiously lighting a blunted roll filled with certain greenish substance.

"Well, you're gonna burn the school down with that," she felt her body budge as the boy laid on his backside, angling his jawline to the ceiling.

"I'm graduating soon anyway."

"That's months away, and besides this shit is bad," she briskly hovered around his face, snatching the roll from between his gritting teeth.

"Okay, look who's acting like their brother."

"I'd rather die," the girl planted the roll in between the vermilion and the upper lip, mixing the refreshing tasted scent with her own. Dusted mists of smoke flooded her mouth and filtering from inside.

"Bold statement," his head faintly nodded to an agreement. And as the exterior of his fingertips brushed alongside her cheeks, distracting her eyes from focusing as he firmly gripped the roll between his index and middle.

The pupil of her eyes had been hooked onto the way his head rested upon the sheets, diluting closer to the irises as she stared longingly.

An instinct trailed forward, urging her to kiss him, kiss him like the many times before. She contemplated, steadily attracting herself forward, heaving her body towards him.

Grazing her lips against his, and with the touch of their bodies tightly pressed against each other. Fresh smoke had smeared across the roofs of their mouths, tightly filling the airways of ecstasy.

A filling of translucency had breathed into each other.

Heavenly prickles shivered down from the touches of his fingertips, pulling the girl closer, and returning the kiss in favour.

A sexual desire had risen from the depths of the week before — Pansy Parkinson's party. And this time, they both wanted to.

Flora held to the hem of her shirt, gripping as she moved it further up her torso, however, feeling the force of his hand stop her from removing the garment.

"Wait," he paused, allowing her to take a breath. "Do you want to?"

"Aha," her nods accumulated the atmosphere, loosening the cooling tension, and instead, the warming sensation flared.

"Okay," his eyes darted to his wand, swerving the movement of the wood to the door, " _Colloportus_." And along with another mutter — a Charm to make the audible, inaudible. Muffling the inside sounds to prevent the outside from hearing.

Her body rested to his lower stomach, turning her head away from the door and back to the older boy. She felt comfort in the raging flushes of butterflies fluttering in her body, knowing that she would be submissive to him.

Submissive to the thought of unravelling herself by the tips of his fingers, lacing her body with pure lust of hunger and craving.

Hunger for her.

Craving for him.

It was inevitable to dismiss the sensuality between the two flames, flames that ignited the warming feels of each flesh.

Didn't care if they got caught by her brother. They were just fucking horny for each other's company, and love. Unwanted love regained to their mind, overpowering their lustrous feelings.

His right hand held to the hip of her body, resting comfortably with easy energy to lift his head closer to hers. The cigar had been roughly positioned between the tips of the middle and index fingers of his left hand. And a scent of burning cinnamon flowed far above, floating by their side.

Adrian could feel the strengthening beats of his heart rupturing against the walls of his body, forcefully pacing exciting flutters in the pit of his stomach. He could feel that as he watched her undress from the torso.

An intrusion of a decorative mahogany red handle stuck out from the strap of her bra — a secretive knife that she had carried deep in the fitted lingerie.

He didn't question it.

Their lips sucked to each other, brushing against as their tongues forcefully collided to the mere entrance of their mouths. His hand pressed to her neck, feeling the lumping movements of her spit swallowing down her throat.

He felt the intensity of his rising erection as she softly bit his protruding bottom lip, leaving a residue of spit. The substance that was soaked with a minty taste, however, this minted scent was more tolerable to her.

The boy took a lengthy puff of the cigar, filling his mouth with the mists of smoke, and before blowing it into her mouth. The girl tried to exhale the flavourful vapour, instead, her throat had swallowed the unwanted essence.

"I'm dying," she joked, coughing the clouds of dust of the rest of the smoke.

"Shit. My bad."

"Just fuck me already," Flora insisted as she slid off from his chest.

"Are you sure you're not drunk? I mean last time..."

"I'm not."

"Okay," he boosted himself forward, tilting his head to the floor, and gesturing the girl to move her body there. "But first, get on your knees."

He sat to the edge of the bed, resting his palm slightly to the back of him, and as he proceeded to strip his pants from the groin. And revealed the growth of his dick, jutting from the flesh of the lower body.

The painful flutters of enthusiasm revealed from her body as her hand wrapped around him, sliding her grasp up and down — pumping the blood from the muscles and tissues inside his body.

He was hard, hard for her.

_His best friend's sister_.

Her tongue grazed over his dick, trailing behind a remnant of her saliva, and stroking it from the bottom to the top. She made sure to soften the tone when she swirled her tongue on the tip — making his head roll back from the sensitivity.

" _Fuck,"_ he mumbled. The end of the cigar still securely attached to the clenches of his mouth, hanging off the bottom lip.

The girl began to take him in her mouth, tightly squeezing within the rim of her lips, and sucking the hardened flesh.

"Look at me," his index finger lifted the bottom of her chin, eyeing into her eyes as he began to jerk himself into her mouth.

Her eyesight blurred by the saltiness of her tears, maintaining from escaping from her eyes. His hands rested on the crown her head, lingering in the strands of her hair as he pushed her down.

" _Good girl. Good fucking girl,_ " his cheering mumbles gave her a boost. She felt more confident and gracious about it, gaining a firm pace as she sped up her movement.

He enjoyed how she pleasured him, the way her eyes teasingly watered from his dominance, and her obedience.

"Are you going to fuck me or not?"

"You're really fucking eager," he guided her back to the pine green silken sheets, laying her backside to the surface.

"I know."

Her torso scars were noticeable, three scratch marks ran across the hip area, projecting a survival from when she was younger. His fingertips spanned down the lines, gently viewing with concern.

"Do they still hurt?"

"No."

She didn't want to say the time when it produced a milking of black liquid that had leaked from the closed wounds. It was surely impossible for it to secrete out. Perhaps it was just another stupid fucking illusion — a hallucination.

"You have a tattoo?" his finger brushed against the side of her rib, a small art from a movie she once saw in an old muggle neighbourhood she had once lived in.

"Three."

"What's that one about?"

"It's a lightsaber," she answered, looking up at him, and his puzzled expression. "From the Star Wars movies? In the 1980s?"

"What the fuck is a Star Wars?"

" _Never mind_."

Adrian shrugged off the question, and continued to tip himself into her, slowly settling his dick to the clit entrance. A pre-thrust had tightened the girl, slipping in and out, getting her used to it again.

His hands caressed the side of her waist, holding them in support for when he would push himself deep into her.

Her eyes pulled — rolled back into the depths of her socket, feeling him inside of her body. Her voice mumbled softly, and in sync with his wandering eyes that grazed over her skin. " _Fuck. Fuck me harder._ "

At her request, he did. He quickened his thrusts, connecting himself deep into her, eyeing the girl from her body and to her eyes, scanning her emotions.

" _Please— fuck—_ "

Her fingers rummaged to the sheets, gripping in pleasure, and burying her hands into the silks with a tightened clasp.

" _Fuck — you're such a good fucking girl,_ " he breathed, moans filling the atmosphere with sexual gratification.

Pounds intensely amplified, and the slapping of his body against her inner thighs increased within each stroke. With every pullout, his dick was soothed in the excess of her wetness, sleeved over his tender flesh.

The girl could feel her body shudder with immense warmth of him heaving himself into her body, and the points of her fingernails digging into his back.

He took one last hit of the cigar before lighting it out, pushing his body towards her, and blowing mists to her face.

The minted taste against the external tubercles of her lips. That fucking minty scent.

The girl held her tongue out, waiting for his tongue to intrude her mouth and down her throat. His hands clasped to her neck, and while launching his mouth against the brim of hers. Sweet scents swept into their mouth entrances, enclosed within the walls of their larynx.

His tongue circled the width of hers, enticing the older boy to taste her further, hungering over her as he proceeded to repeatedly ram himself deeply. Deepening through the tight sensitivity of her clit, and building the tension of the climax.

The girl held the knife from her bra upon his cheek, sliding down with the blunting side of the blade, grazing across his jawline. "Call me a slut or I'll cut your cheek," she whispered.

"Fuck, you're so hot when you do that."

"I don't think you thought that when I threw one above your head," Flora reminded his mere escape from potentially being stabbed.

"Do it then. I dare you, _slut._ "

The point of the metal had pierced through the top layer of his skin, pinching against the surface of the thin blade. Blood had oozed from the wound, splitting down to the edge of his jaw, slowly pooling with force.

He felt the smear of the crimson under his fingerprints as he wiped a drop of blood, and bringing his thumb to his mouth.

Her body faintly blushed from the vision of his slight grin, softening into a smirk.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

A sudden turn of the doorknob forcibly concluded their steaming session, interrupting the pair with a squeak of each turn from the handle.

It was locked so there wasn't much of a possible way in — unless if you had a wand.

"Shit. Shit," she gasped, pushing the boy off from her.

"Fuck," his eyes darted around the room, however, halted to under the bed, which a small space hadn't been filled yet. "Under the bed."

"Are you kidding me?!"

"Hurry up and go under!"

She was hesitant but it was the only safe spot hidden away from clear eyesight, she agreed and slid herself underneath the bed. All she had on was her bralette.

It was uncomfortable to squeeze herself under the nook of the bed. But it had to do, it had to keep her secure from the person outside.

"Why was the door locked?" the voice entered, beaming with agitation. She knew it, it was her brother entering his dormitory.

_'Fuck.'_

"And why are you sitting on my bed with your towel on— and why are you bleeding?"

_His bed? They fucked on Eros' bed?_

"I slipped out of the shower," Adrian dismissed Eros' questions.

"Anyway, have you seen my sister?"

"What? No, w-why would I have seen her..?"

"Some Hufflepuff girl saw you leaving the library with her, and I've checked everywhere for her," he rambled on, concerned about where she had gone to.

"Why do you need to see her at this time of night?"

"So I can fucking yell at her!"

"What did she do this time?" Adrian rested back, leaning against the rigidity of his palms and arms.

"You mean, what hasn't she done? Malfoy is in Snape's office right now telling him what happened. He's covered in dirt, it's filth," his eyes wandered throughout every cranny of the dormitory, before gazing his eyes over his dresser.

"Okay?"

"Snape told me that she threatened him, used magic against him, turned him into a badger and placed him in the Hufflepuff common room. She is getting on my nerves now," he huffed, snatching a piece of parchment paper from the dresser and stormed out of the dorm.

_'Arsehole.'_

"I'm going to leave now before he comes back," she slipped on her top and skirt and wiped the blood from his wound before heading away from the dorm.

The dim candlelight had lit a hue of canary and orange, brightening only the surrounding area with warmth.

She grazed her fingers over the jagged edges of the stone wall, filling her fingers inconsistently move in the cracks of the surface.

"Wow, you look like a wreck," a familiar tone called from the couches.

Her head shook to where a boy rested, his feet hovering over the armrest of the leather seating. It was Theodore Nott. "What?"

"How was it?"

"Studying? Good," she quipped.

"I can see that. Please tell me, what was it you were studying? Human anatomy? Or Adrian's anatomy?"

"No.."

"Your secret is safe with me. I can tell that you don't want your brother finding out," Nott replied, his eyes focused on her — her messy self.

"How the fuck do you know these things?"

"I'm just very observant," he shrugged, lifting a book from the edge of the table.  
  



	17. 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄—𝐑𝐀

**HONEY SALIVA TRICKLED DOWN THE RIM OF HER INDEX.** Flora eyed Adrian as he sat on the far side of the Slytherin table, watching her lick the last bit the sticky content from her finger.

And before pivoting her eyes away from the boy when she saw her brother sit down. It was awkward to think about how they had sex on Eros' bed and almost caught in the action.

"So, Christmas Holidays are coming up and is it still okay if Luna and I stay at yours?" Ziva asked, her fingers trailing the line of food.

"Yeah of course!"

"Your brother was looking for you last night. He said it was urgent, but I didn't know where you were," she conversed with more information, targeting the girl's whereabouts.

"Really? Well, I'll just talk to him after breakfast."

That was a lie. She didn't want to endure the pain of Eros reciting school rules to her.

Eros was an utter dud before he got appointed as a Quidditch Captain in the sixth year and then Head Boy — always partied in the Slytherin common room and dated almost every girl in the school.

"So where were you?"

"Late night walks."

Flora's viewpoint spanned across the Slytherin table, bumping eyes with the blond Slytherin boy. His grey eyes darkened with an arrant look of pique, tightly clasping a glassy object— looking as if he were about to smash it in any second.

He was full of anger — raging vexes, and spitting fiery flames from the depths of hell.

It wasn't like she had murdered his parents. She had only cursed him to a badger and merely placed him in the planted spaces of the Hufflepuff common room.

It wasn't serious.

She wasn't exactly sure why he transfigured into a badger — but perhaps, it was because it was the first animal she had thought of. She would've turned him into a serpent if her mind wasn't utterly focused to a different perspective.

Florina could've controlled the snake. She couldn't speak Parseltongue, but she could sway the reptile with a strong finger movement and a deep focus to the eyes. She had only learnt that because her sister could do that to reptiles alike — no mouth movements, but only a wave of the persuading finger.

Quite miraculous indeed.

Demeaning gazes scrunched away within a second breath into motion and snapped to the sound of Ziva's insistent clicks.

"Eros is coming over to the Ravenclaw table and he looks... mad? I dunno, I think he does," Ziva swayed her head forward, locking her body in a twist.

" _Fuck_! I'm going," her body strengthened to a jolt, loosening her feet from captivity under the table and sped from the past rows of bodies. And slipping into a bump of abandonment down the nearest corridor, sighing openly as her back perched to the wall.

Flora dedicated her body to the stone, tightly coring the compression of her frame against the jagged surface. Hearing footsteps clack past was anguished anticipation for it to vapour from nearby.

_Clear_? Perhaps, as felt her heart set back into place, beating consistently against the wall of the inside of her.

Flora didn't need him howling into her eardrums for the hundredth time — she was just as confounded as to why girls liked him. She would've been bored by him.

"Bloody hell, why do you look like you've just escaped from a mental institution... maybe, St. Mungo's?" a voice unnervingly dipped into her ears.

"Warrington, what do you want?"

His eyes separated from the girl, grazing past the columns of dull emptiness, and back to her with content, "you."

"W-wh— I asked you _what_ do you want, not _who_ do you want. Are you daft or something?"

"Alright let me rephrase that for you then, I want your body," the tip of his wand slid upon her arm, centring his focus on her face. "Better?"

Disgusted tones overcame her, loosely dropping her robe to the ground from her hands as she clutched to his forearm — twisting with no mercy. "No, it's not fucking ' _better_.' I suggest you get lost before I drop-kick your arse so fucking hard that you'll be begging for me to finish you off with the Avad—"

"Flora!" Eros boomed against her threat, scarcely echoing throughout. "I have been looking everywhere for you!" his eyes deepened with envy as he glanced to the boy, "Warrington... what are you doing?"

Cassius snapped from her strength, rubbing his arm over the dents on his flesh from her nails. "Umbridge requested me to keep an eye on the corridors but your psychotic sister came onto me."

"What the fuck! I-I, no I didn't."

"I don't believe that she would. I believe that you're just desperate — desperate like the time that you shagged my ex-girlfriend," he diminished the boy's solidity. "I think you're angry because I kicked you off the team, and I couldn't care less."

"Well, she isn't that innocent y'know. I would ask Pucey if I were you," he scoffed, pointing his body to face the end of the hallway, however, stopping in mid steps to face the siblings. "Actually why don't I tell you myself, since Pucey lies."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sweet little Flora shagged Adrian, and even after you told her to not go for Slytherins? Wow, I definitely did not see that coming... _coming_ , do you get that?" he sarcastically quipped, cackling from the last joke — intended to mock.

"She would never—"

"How the fuck would you know?"

Eros' head fleeted to her interruption, the intensity of the tension had risen rapidly. And eyebrows sturdily furrowed.

"I think you know," Cassius chuckled once more before leaving the quiet consumption of the corridors.

Silence had bitterly consumed the atmosphere, and specs of fuzz had rushed into their ears, alarming rings muffled beyond the air.

Flora could feel the chilling glares splitting into seething fragments. But her thoughts were too attentive towards who told Cassius.

_Theo_?

_Adrian_?

No, it couldn't have been Adrian — could it?

Pounding thoughts throbbed her brain and a demanding headache voiced into her mind, profoundly buzzing. But she could sense a faint voice mumbling to her.

To Flora, it was soft, however, Eros was snapping his fingers to her face.

"Are you listening to me?"

"W-what?" her eyes flicked from the bewildering state of a mindless void, "what did you say?"

"I said that McGonagall wants to see you in her office and that I'll deal with you later. As for now, I'm going to yell at Adrian," he glided from her space, grinding the outsole of his leathery shoes against the flooring.

Eros was an embodiment of her father, he acted precisely as if he was a third parent to the girl — but perhaps, that was an older siblings job. And considering that their father was no longer alive, Eros had to act as if he was the ' _man of the house_.'

She turned to face the exposure of the heavenly streams of sunlight, radiance absorbing warmth against her skin. Her arms comfortably crossed against her chest, and with her robe silkened in her clutches.

Flora crossed the rigidity of the wooden bridge that had spanned west of the main entrance of the castle and towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower. The first floor of the tower would lay McGonagall's office.

Her arm brushed past the brim of the junked crates that rested underneath the spiralling cases of stairs. The protruding knuckles of her fist had tapped against the splints of the door, knocking in a classic rhythm.

Five beating rhythmic touches.

She waited patiently for the door to creak open to reveal Professor McGonagall gracing the tiles with her darkened puffed robes. Guiding the younger girl to a pushed out wooden chair, waiting to be sat on by her.

"I got a complaint from Mr Malfoy and Professor Snape. It was about using a transfiguration spell against Mr Malfoy — I hope you realise that there are consequences for your actions," she emphasised. Her voice tanged within the fuzzed bells of her headache — synchronised infusion.

"Yes Professor."

"I gave you a warning last time. But this time, I'm giving you a month's detention for using spells as a threat against a student outside of duelling classes, and twenty points from Ravenclaw," the older lady's stern looks painted a series of nerves forming into the girl's body.

Flora's head stuck to only an agreeable nod — nodding with fear of expulsion when she had just settled into the school.

"Human Transfiguration is a highly difficult skill to possess. How did you learn such a skill? I've only taught you transfiguration on objects," McGonagall stated conducive information to her.

"I-I Uhm... researched about it in books."

"Books? A theoretical approach, is that so?"

"Yes, yes it is," Flora's hands clasped each other, nestled on top of her lap. "Professor, may I ask why you are quizzing me about the topic? I've learnt to not use this type of spells on others."

"Curiosity is a given. But even with books, the practicality doesn't achieve easily," her frail fingers swirled the dust from the rim of her desk.

"True, that is commonly correct."

Flora had watched her mother transfigure bodies into Monarch butterflies by use of the spell ' _Papilio.'_ And especially, transfiguring her father into one that laid amongst the mantle in their home.

Odelia had recovered Nicholas' torturous body from their old home in Falmouth and had sympathetically transfigured him into a blooming Morpho butterfly.

He adored blue — often associated it with serenity and peace. But mostly because Odelia was in Ravenclaw.

_Her heart soaked in divine serenity._

"Have you researched about Circe? She was skilled in illusions and transfiguration herself, you might be interested."

The girl's eyes lifted from below, transparent smiles waved over serious expression. "I have, she is a favourable goddess of mine. Although, pretty hard to match up to her."

"Yes, I suppose so... well, you may go now," McGonagall's hand instructed to the door, allowing the girl to escape through the crack of the thickened wood.

That wasn't bad, she had expected much worse. McGonagall had influenced research on a goddess who was known for transforming men into animals. Rightfully transfiguring them into swine and such.

Her head bopped below a shielding archway bestowed upon a corridor. She began to stroll down the halls before realising her first class was about to proceed.

Tints of grey envisioned her sight, stones compressed together in walls as she sped up the stairs. Motion blurs filled her surroundings, gaining a steady speed to the Charms classroom.

Her feet located inside the room before the rest of her body could heave in. And luckily there was a spare seat next to Ziva.

The girl sauntered by rows of tables, fixing her glances to the empty chair. "Hey, sorry for running off from the Great Hall."

"All good. I figured that you were running from Eros," she shrugged, separating the parchment paper from next to her.

"Yeah, well yo—" she sensed a heavy scrunch of paper tossed to the back of her head, merely catching it as it fell from the strands. " _What the fuck_."

Flora clutched to the paper in secrecy, unfolding it as Flitwick's back was turned to face the white scribbles against the chalkboard. Scanning the messy contents of the parchment.

Depictions of a drawing had resembled her, moving slightly in place with words plastered around the figure.

Words such as; ' _Little slag loves to choke on dick.'_

_'Did he fuck you yet after the party? Perhaps, he did — after you begged.'_

And the personal favourite, ' _WHORE—RA,'_ compacted into large fonts.

Ziva roughly grabbed the note from her hands, tightly grazing over the curses, "what the hell? Who would write—"

The girls' heads moved in sync towards a muffle of chatters and faint cackles, staring right up at Pansy who had motioned an invisible dick into her mouth. Mocking with great grins, next to two obnoxious Slytherin girls.

"I am going to beat her arse so fucking hard that she'd wish upon mercy," Ziva turned the girl's shoulder from the Slytherin group — folding the parchment and shoving it into her mouth to absorb in the saliva.   
  
  


━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  


The Hogwarts Library, an obvious spot to browse a combination of book genres and such. Cliques of students, rummaging through the shelves with no desire for reading.

But rather, sticking around for the utter entertainment of Merlin knows what.

The space was filled with spectacles of misty dust, flowing from resurfaced and olden books alike. Placed amongst the wonky shelves of the library units, shielded under rows of gold plated chandeliers.

Flora placed a possession of books related to Mythology and Ancient Beasts against the delicate surface of the table.

"It's annoying how words travel around the school in such a short amount of time," Ziva ran her finger alongside the spine of a book, reading the title.

"I know."

"I mean, why should girls be shamed and not boys? I don't fucking see Adrian being called a whore. I-It just makes no sense," her eyes viewed the area, scanning to see if Madam Pince was near when she swore.

"Right? I should've thrown a knife to his neck when I had the chance."

"Uh— what?"

"It's a hobby," her body loosely laid back into the chair, tensions dropped into relaxation.

"I-uhh okay, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear your murderous thoughts and keep ranting about equality," Ziva's hand motioned a sprinkle around the girl's frame, nodding with confusion.

"You do that, but firstly, I'm going to put this book away," she held the hefty book in one hand and securing it in place with her other hand. Slipping from the chair and towards an empty row in between shelves.

Her fingers laced the delicacy of the wood, sliding it across the splintering texture as fuzz of dust printed off onto her fingertips. She felt at peace with the area, calm and secure as there was no other student in the same section.

The girl ran her eyes over the books, regaining a recollection of where she had obtained the book from. Scanning the rows and columns until she had reached an opening — carefully tilting the book in sideways, and before knocking a book from above.

Her eyes diverted to the floor, picking up the snakelike texture of the cover — deep green tints of Hunter and emerald were present into a shimmer of iridescence in the cracked lines.

" _Ancient Reptilian Curses."_

It looked promising.

Scents of old crinkled parchments resurfaced from the opening of the book, infused with a whiff of musk.

Her eyes had randomly stopped on a page when a piece of scrapped paper had fallen from inside —it looked as if it were ripped from a section and scribbled mercilessly.

Flora unravelled the piece, unfolding it from every possible fold and outcome as she held the note close to her eyes.

" _Concateno?"_

There was no explanation for the word, only a wonder.

A wonder as to why it was written in her father's handwriting — she could easily recognise his writing, the stricken curves of the lettering and the distinctive tone of the way the word was compacted together.

It was his.

The girl stepped back, dragging her head up the columns of books, however, feeling a strong bump to her backside. She whipped herself around to glance at the blond boy.

Draco Malfoy gave her a shallowness of disgusted tones, sweeping his smug facial expression.

"Fucking hell, why are you always bumping into me huh? Are you obsessed?" he swiped the specks of dirt from his uniform, eyeing down the girl.

"Obsessed? That's a laugh," her brisk steps moved from the proximity of him.

"So are you going to apologise or not?"

"Why the fuck would I apologise? I didn't do anything," her fingers glided amongst the books, struggling to locate a specific book that she was prompted to find.

"Let me see then... you turned me into a fucking badger and placed me in the worst fucking house possible—"

"I think the worst house would be Slytherin— maybe I'm just biased because my brother is in that house," Flora shrugged, leaning her head back to face the outskirts of the shelves.

"I just know that I wouldn't want a slut in my house anyway. Did you really try to shag Pucey at Pansy's party? Pretty desperate if you ask me," he leaned back against the solid wall, crossing his arms loosely with glee.

"I have no idea what you are talking about and besides, aren't you tired of being a misogynist?"

"No, but, I wouldn't put it past you to fuck everyone here — didn't you threaten me with sleeping with my father? That's disgusting," Draco continued once more, provoking her circling mind with annoyance.

"I don't see why you are insulting me for shagging someone. You act as if you've never done that before, and at this point, it's a double standard," Flora's eyes trailed off from him and budged forward to the end of the section.

"You know what? I don't need your fucking apology," the boy peeked out from within the section, scurrying with heaving, thudding steps out of the library.

Flora hesitantly grazed her hand over the cases, blocking his intrusive voice from her concentrated sanity. Perhaps, it would've been reasonable to punch the boy in the face.

But he had already cursed his way out of the library.

The library had seemed to brighten up once he was out of the area, chandeliers hinted a slight sway as the glints reflected from the sprayed metal. Divine peace consumed the atmosphere once more with the library in a still array.

Flora closely overlooked the books, dusted residue sheathed the outer layers of the surface skin of each spine. It was a pounding tussle to view each book without missing one from your sight or memory, she could've sworn that she had already passed a book that wasn't there.

_Magic_? Yes, of course, it was.

But it was the exact thickening contents she had been looking for, ' _Haunted Charms for Spirits and Boggarts._ '

She was finally overjoyed to see a fleck of light in her day — it was as if it was purposely waiting for her in the Dark Arts section. But either way, she took both books and heaved towards where she first sat in the library.

Flora appeared to her friend, roughly placing the books down onto the table, the table infested with outbursts of paper from their essays. It was a sudden thud of the books that had Ziva jolting from her concentrated trance.

"Sorry."

"This Potions essay is overworking me — what's that book about?" her eyes laid out to the book, rested amongst the parchment pieces.

"This one is about ghosts and boggarts," she swiped the book from over the top, and insistently showed the one from below. "And this one is about Reptilian Curses? I'm not sure because I've never heard about it before."

"Interesting," her head forcibly nodded, tightly staring at the slithery texture of the skin — the cover looked enchanting to read. "It's pretty."

"Isn't it?"

Her fingers roamed the creases of the binds, following down to the iridescent fillings of the snaking dents. It really did look as intriguing as she first noticed it. _Captivating._

It captured her lonely eyes with glints of slight holographic shines and a scarcity of emerald tinges mixed with the black.

Flicker by flicker, translating each page with her fingertips as she scanned the contents of pages of detailed information about reptiles and dark curses. It was as if they were _linked_ together, binding and surviving with each component.

Unusual, why would reptiles and dark curses be in the same index?

"The library is going to close soon and I'm a little tired," Ziva stretched her palm over her mouth, gasping tightly for it to not escape and seep into the silence. "Are you staying here?"

"Yep, but just a little longer."

"Okay. I'll see you back at the dormitory," she packed her papers in a folder, clutching it securely in the nook of her armpit. The girl faintly waved to her as she studied back to the pages.

Her mind reflected her conversation with Professor McGonagall earlier in the day. She was encouraged to keep practising transfiguration— but why be influenced to when she was punished for using the spell.

She had only used a transfiguration spell outside of school — underaged use of magic that had been persuaded to use on a body that—

Her eyes glued to specific scribbles of a page. The same word that was written in her father's handwriting. The one without an explanation of what it was deemed to be.

_'CONCATENO_ ,' written in bold lettering.

_'The ancient spell can be lifted with the aid of a snake — and the willing blood of the two participants that have been consumed by the charm. The Cur—'_

"Concateno," she repeated, sliding her index finger down to the supposed page that was meant to be filled with information. But instead, the rest of the chapter had been ripped forcefully from existence.

Desperate for what the foreign word meant, she had rummaged throughout the book — almost ripping the pages from the spine.

" _No_. Why must you have to be such a mystery?" Flora groaned, releasing herself into the chair and reclining against the rickety wooden design.

However, an attentive detail had barely caught her span. The other book had been opened precisely to an unknown chapter — no titles, no number of pages. Just a page filled with Classical Latin mixed with modern terminology.

And it indeed had carried the exact word she kept noticing throughout. It followed her with every glance and a flick of a page.

"Curiouser and curiouser," she quoted an extract from a novel her mother had read to her. The one with the girl that kept hallucinating obscure visions in a fantasy world filled with peculiar creatures and animals.

_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland._

_Funny_ , Alice's Wonderland had resembled her cottaged home. In the outskirts of England, the one where she grew up with abnormal creatures alike, surrounded by acres of woodland forest to explore and escape into.

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense — less of a bizarre story and more of a pinch to her arm hairs against the skin.

It was still indeed a curious concept of a story.

Her body balanced forward with struggling wonders of lost translation within her mind, she couldn't quite grasp the words.

She was falling down the rabbit hole of a perpetual trance of the obsession to crack the monotonous word.

But she did recognise the words ' _snake_ ' and ' _blood_ ' in those paragraphs. It was all too complicated — feeling as if her head was going to be blown into fragments of melted mush.

Brain secretion.

"I give up," sighs breathed out from her mouth and arms rocketed down onto the table, hitting her ulna against the edge of the wood. Hissing with agony as she rubbed her right arm down the bone she had almost fractured.

She wanted to borrow the books to do more research on the topics, however, Madam Pince was quite the guardian of the books. You couldn't secretly borrow it without getting past her.

So she decided to check off the two books she was heading to borrow — intended to dig a little deeper than what she had planned.

"Just those two?" Irma Pince gave the girl an unwell look of stern, carefully handling the books over to the girl. "Dark Curses?"

"It's research for Defence Against the Dark Arts," she felt a faint smile creep over her eyes, awkwardly waiting to be handed the books. "Okay, thanks," she hurried to the doorway— just in time as the library had dimmed. Closing time.

Tanged jingles rang in waves throughout the air, brisk winds stammered and seeping through her nose and mouth. And as mists of dew splat against the tenderness of her skin.

Winter merely approached — and so had the holidays. 


	18. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄

**DRACO MALFOY** **ﾐ** **·** ⋆  
  
  


**DECEMBER 22, 1995**

**THE FAMILIAR DARKNESS** had breathed a deep brisk of power over the manor. It felt unnerving to the boy as he walked the paths of the manor— alongside his two best friends.

Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini.

Power ran through the cracks of the tiles, dark mists dulled the life out of the living room. And royal red carpets covered the dark with a speck of gold printed onto it.

He liked red.

_Blood red._

Hated to admit it. But he did.

Crisping cracks of the snow had divided against the outsole of his pristine leathered shoes — dotted specks of mud followed the surface of the material. It was only a tiny amount of snow that had chilled the ground of the manor.

He hadn't wished to visit his home for the holidays, but he was needed there instead of Hogwarts. Needed his friends to catch along with him for the next few weeks at the manor.

Disappointing to see the same olden estate built into a variation of canary roses and dusted lavender tulips amid the earthy effects of herbicide dews. His mother, Narcissa was quite the woman with her plants, gentleness and compassion had brought out her care for them.

But, it was rare to see her smiling face under a masked wave of stern expressions within her tolerable eyes. _Regret_? To commit to a family that would silence power over those that weren't superior.

Blood Supremacy of Pure-Bloods.

She was devoted to him and Draco, always and forever would be — she perhaps thought a glimpse of it. Different perspectives of what life would've been like if she both had and hadn't married the man who fancied a Muggle-Born girl back when he attended Hogwarts.

Fancied, but realised how deep, abandonment would inflict on himself. So he cursed and spat derogatory slurs towards the girl who would've disgraced his family name.

_Odelia Quinn._

The three friends heaved their way from the front steps of the entrance and thudded inside the manor. And carefully resting their coats on the solid stands of the coat stand.

Draco noticed the arched door in the corner from the living room, it had always lurked there with a suspicious locked spell to it. Not one that even ' _Alohomora'_ could open.

"You two can go to my room, I'm going to check up on something first," he motioned to the two boys up the regal stairs.

The boy hovered his eyes around the room to see if his parents were around before he set his foot near the door. His heart placed vigorous beats inside, a deep risk of being caught by his parents if they saw him at that moment.

The door had always been shut and locked with excessive force. Even he tried to get it opened every time he was alone in the estate — but now was an opportunity.

His body creaked forward, glaze focused to the opened crack of the door, however, scurrying his eyes away as the door forcefully closed on him.

"What did I tell you about this door?" Lucius stuck his hand against the wooden surface of the door, tightly shutting it.

"Don't open it," he repeated from what his father had told him in the earlier years.

"Go back to your friends."

He coldly peered back at the door, however, quickly turned around when he noticed his father eyeing his every move.

The door was opened when he first caught it in his sight. Not locked.

_So why are locked doors addictive to open?_

Mysteries. Mysteries. The ones that lurk in the tragic depths of the swallowed souls of secrecy.

The boy rose from up the stairs, sliding his fingers against the railing as he wrapped them loosely. And feeling bumps of his silvery rings to the glossed wooden surface. Curiosity was now at its peak.

He dragged his feet over the velvet cover of the rug, spanning closely from the front of the steps and towards the hallway. His head turned to the left of the hallway — where his undesirable bedchamber was situated at.

"Finally, look who's back!" Blaise pestered the boy as he pushed the edge of the door wide.

"What did you do? Have a wank while you thought about how F-Flora turned you into a b-badger?" Theo mockingly stuttered, enunciating both words. "Why are you so mad that she turned you cute? You should be thanking her."

"Fuck off!" he uttered, flipping the boy with his extended middle finger.

"Cute?" Blaise questioned, turning his left eyebrow up at Theo.

"I meant the badger," he hastily remarked. "Obviously."

"Right well, I was just looking at something downstairs that I hadn't seen here before," Draco partially lied, his footsteps creaked closer to his king-sized bed.

The dark oaken frame with slight wooden splinters has been painted a dull mixture of sable and onyx— creating a powerful tone. The bedsheets were exquisitely tidied and free from grime underneath the silken covers of deep forest green.

He would mostly spend his time dusting off the creases and wrinkles of his covers when he would make his bed — rarely. He never would make his bed. But, if he did see a crease in the sheets, he would try to flatten it.

The boy rested himself on top of the covers, sprawling his legs so he could kick both of the boys with his feet — _jokingly_ , he thought. Not meaning harm when he would do that.

"I brought this," Theo held out a heavily filled bottle of fire whisky from underneath the bed frame. "Because I'm bored."

"I'm in but what happens when Draco's parents walk in?"

"They have hands so they can learn to fucking knock. And besides, they know when they aren't welcome in my room," his head laid a rest against the rigidity of the bed headboard. "What are we playing?"

"I'm not sure if there is a name for it but basically, you have to answer a question honestly by drinking the whisky that is mixed with Veritaserum. Don't ask me where I got the serum from," Theo poured out the fiery liquid into each of the glassy cups that Draco had gotten from his dresser.

The boy slightly shook the glass, liquid contents slid from side to side and swirled in a clouded, yet storming, circling motion. He took a whiff of the whisky as a tang of bitterness clogged the surface of his nostrils. "Don't make the questions stupid then."

"Okay, I'll start," Theo started, grinning at both of the boys. "Draco! If you had the chance to kill any student in the school without going to Azkaban — who would it be?"

"Of course you would be the one to ask about murder, Nott," Blaise muttered, scooting his body upright from the edge of the bed frame.

"Deciding between Potter and Cates. Why can't I kill both of them?"

Blaise could feel himself arguably sheathing his face under the surface of his palm, "Merlin! The question is asking you for one."

" _Cates_."

"But which one?"

Draco's mind had been vexingly boggled by Theodore's answerable question, disregarding the entirety of a concept called ' _siblings,'_ but because the blond boy had no sibling.

It was just him and his parents in the estate — no escape from the dull walls. But by means, why would anyone want to run from a manor like his?

But now, occasionally there had been a few dark-coated guests since the rise of Voldemort from earlier in the year. So now, there was no fortunate escape from the mark — at least, not yet.

"What the fuck do you mean which one? I picked Cates instead of Potter," he gritted his teeth, bolting his body forward.

"Did you forget siblings existed? Take the Weasleys' for example, there's a hundred of them at school — see where I'm going with this?"

"I'm pretty sure there's four of them—" Blaise lifted his hand, observing as he counted out of curiosity and confusion.

"Obviously Eros, but I fucking hate referring to him as his first name."

"Watch out, Flora might zap you back into a b-badger," Theo's cackling tone mocked the blond boy into a wave of stilling annoyance.

"How does she do that? Human Transfiguration?"

Plentiful of hours researching the ancient history of Transfiguration and Illusions had brought her up to speed about the divining magic of Transfiguration with and without a wand.

"I have no idea but she's probably the only Ravenclaw I can tolerate," he leaned his back against the shortened board of the end of the bed, tilting slightly.

" _FUCKING HELL_! Just shut the fuck up about her! I'm tired of hearing about that bitch," Draco snapped, hastily yelled before toning his voice down to a shallow groan.

"Woah—"

"You two dickheads are annoying me at this point!"

"Mate, you didn't have to call her that. She's a good friend of my sister and I respect her," Blaise stood for the girl and hoped to calm him down from the outburst.

"And.... she's also a good friend to Loony — the girl who you fancy," Theo nudged Blaise's arm, jokingly taking the piss out of the boy's likeness towards the eccentric girl.

Perhaps Luna's loving stares to the other Zabini sibling was discrete — no one other than Flora knew about her orientation.

"Shut the fuck up," Draco hurried to his feet, bouncing himself from the comfort of the satin textures. "I'm going for a walk," he slammed his way out of the chamber.

Thudded steps of the boy came echoing down the stairs, tightly clenching his body as he toed his way to the front door of the manor. Already slipped in his shoes as he clutched to the coat, slightly rattling the coat stand behind.

There wasn't much to see that he'd already been exposed to. The garden beds flowered under the sprinkles of brisk sheets of ice, and gravelling paths had been scattered amongst the pale shallows of snow.

There wasn't much of the snow. It had snowed more at Hogwarts than the rest of the United Kingdom. But it was still crowded with scatters of hasty chills — spiralling down the limbs of his body, and sending numbs to overload him.

He kicked the gravels with little force, easing his way down towards the fountain that laid in the centre of more gardens and neatly trimmed hedges. He felt at peace within the atmosphere of the gardens that his mother had tended to.

' _I thought by now that you would've at least stood up for yourself.'_

The intrusive thought had unwillingly swept up into his mind, resting in stumbling shambles as he tried to push it away.

He hated to admit it. He really fucking hated to admit it — but somehow, she had a point. And he hadn't realised that he'd been so reliant on his father.

Lucius Malfoy had money, power and been respected by others, but all the boy had was an embarrassment from how he would use his father as an excuse to get what he wanted.

' _My father will hear about this.'_

Pathetic.

He wanted things the easy way, the malicious way. Power was good. And his family had power — so why not use that to advantage without needing to announce his father's involvement.

Yes, that was it.   
  
  


━━━━━━━━━━  
  


Dusk had settled, trailing shadows had followed into the boy's room. Moonlight had scattered against the dull walls of the chamber, however, glimpses of the light had shone towards his face. 

He was focused on a page of a certain book, still awake as the estate fell into quick silence from earlier. It was dimmed from the weakly lit candles that stood out on his tables.

Blaise and Theo were in separate rooms down the hallway. The pair wanted to sleep within his flooring but Draco wanted at least some privacy— and silence from having to share a dormitory with the two boys. He had simply wanted his room to himself.

But at that very tedious moment, he was bored. Wasn't tired, nor wanted to continue to read the book that he had been grazing his eyes at for at least twenty minutes or so. He was still curious about that door that he had been urged to not look through.

There were a few spots in the estate that he couldn't enter. And that door was many of the doors that had been purposely locked by Lucius.

He grounded his feet to the rug, his feet scuffed on the slight surface of the velvety texture. It was decorated under spots of deep garnet and golden bronze in colour.

Equivalent to the Royally feel of being at the highest in supremacy. It had those colours.

Draco felt the warm dizziness rush to his head and feeling it over his body — like as if he didn't belong in that very moment. It was a familiar feeling of every time he stood up to do something that he had been dreading to do.

Candlelit hallways were free of bodies.

He toed down the stairs once again as he brushed himself off with the tidiness of his fingertips against the shirt.

However, standing to a halt as he peered his body towards the same door as he saw before — still very much open.

" _What the fuck_ ," he muttered under his heaving breath, stepping forward and putting little weight to his feet in case of the creaking flooring.

Red flickers flounced in the cracks of the outline of the doorway. He ignored the warning as he slowly revealed the inside by pulling on the rim of the door.

But, nothing was there. And neither were the red flashes of light — the one that had lit the dulling night of the living room.

_Nothing._

The boy turned his head away from the room, bopping his head to face every possible direction in hopes of not seeing his parents catching him once more. However, noticing two bodies on the ground of the room when he had peeked into the room again.

Two pale dead bodies with strands of blonde covering themselves. They were surrounded by immense struggles of darkness— a deep void with nothing but the dark.

Blood crept closer. Close from the rotting corpses of the two people.

But the blood kept pouring down, watering the floor with a deep sickly smell — emitting from below and into the beginning of his nostrils.

Putrid mixtures of metallic and rotted fleshy wounds from inside a decomposing body.

It was familiar. The scene, it was all too familiar.

He remembered the nightmare he had tranced into, the one from months ago. But now, it wasn't a nightmare. It felt very much real and he was undoubtedly alive.

To the stinging sensation of his fingers rubbing the surface of his flesh and the slight arm hairs had irked a pinch.

_No use because he wasn't in a controlling nightmare._

Draco couldn't help but stare at the ghastly scene of his parents hallucinated bodies being filled within the thickly bloody contents.

The subconscious in his mind had forced his head to briskly turn from the sight, and he did. He turned with utter fear and devastation— the devastation of the possible reality that the brutal scene could be an outcome to Voldemort's return.

But curiosity overtook the boy as he glanced back into the room to find— a secret office?

_'A fucking office? That's it?'_

The bodies were gone and so was the overshadowing darkness. But, now an office had stood its ground in the room, filling it will piles of unnecessary objects and such. But he was still curious.

He dragged himself into the room, and loosely closing the door to a centimetre of a crack. He observed the room with the wanders of his eyes.

His vision stumbled upon glassed vials of the thick consistency of a carmine infused liquid. And has his fingers gently scraped against the rim of the glass.

_Blood?_

The boy felt a series of flaps in his stomach, circling his head around the room for some more objects that intrigued him.

Protruding colours of serenity had spiked his attention to an opened crack of a particular drawer. And as he stooped closer, he noticed it was an elegant envelope addressed to his father.

There wasn't just one of the same decorative envelope — but four. They all had been tightly placed together and wrapped in a bind of small fibres of the miniature rope.

The pristine paper had been designed with floral paints, the bumps of the surface of the paint had been dried for what felt like twenty years.

_'Lucius Malfoy.'_

The delicacy of the curving letters had not matched his mother's handwriting — he was charmed by the striking patterns as he clutched to the envelopes. And hoping not to scrunch them out of foolishness.

He felt faints of dust showering himself from the ceiling, noticing an eerie silence of creaking footsteps from above him.

Draco panicked as his nerves strung up his body, grasping the letters as he closed the drawer with a still push. Looking back once again to view the office as it was before and closing the door with no creaky echoes.

He rushed past a muffle of voices, slowing down with utter ease as he stuck his backside to the surface of the wall — slightly peering his head closer to the crack of lights.

Mumbles of deep breathing voices washed over the room, and the silencing aggression had been warned by his father to the other men in the room. The room was one of the few that he hadn't been permitted to enter.

" _Would he keep to his word and break them out?"_ One voice had hesitantly hissed against the others, luring the younger boy to keep listening.

" _A Prophecy. He must need more accomplices to achieve it_ ," the familiar voice of his father silenced over the man.

" _And if you fail?"_

_"Fail? I don't think—"_

The boy's head stooped back as a faint noise echoed from underneath his foot, tightly holding his body against the stoned surface. And as he heard footsteps bearing closer towards the door.

He sucked in his breath, not making even the faintest sounds as the door had shut by an unknown person in the room.

Too close.

He was almost caught by his father.

His hastened breaths seeped out — exhaling in relief and his heartbeats paced within the supposed normal skips.

"Draco?" a small voice emerged from the corner. His mother bore a monotonous worry of expressions. "Why aren't you in bed?"

The letters in his hand were harshly tucked behind his back, lifting his body from the wall as he stood closer to his mother.

"I-uhm— needed to get some water," he gently nodded.

"Did you get it?"

"Yes."

"Very well dear, off to bed now," she planted a gracious kiss to the top of his forehead and gently ushering him upstairs.

Draco had climbed to the steep steps towards the hallway that his bedroom had been situated in, and turned his body towards the door to close it behind him.

The candles were in still motion, however, waving a sudden flicker as he fell to the silken covers of his bed. He looked up, holding the binding envelopes in both hands as he examined the body of the material.

Florals of periwinkle forget-me-nots and blushes of carnations painted on the outskirts of the envelopes, securing a place around his father's name. Charismatic features tied the envelope with a divine tone of voice.

It felt as if he could hear the sweet calming voice of the envelope telling him to open it.

He looked at it to see that it had been savagely sealed from being opened too many times. _But, how many times would his father have opened the envelope to read the letter?_ Perhaps it was a guilty sentimental fling.

Draco brushed his fingers against the edge, however, gaining a stinging sensation to the tip of his index finger — even a slight paper cut was an absolute nightmare. He winced at the sudden sting and held his finger to his mouth, sucking the pain from underneath the skin.

One envelope had revealed a pristine sheet of parchment paper, filled with cursive written words, delicately handwritten with sorrowful words.

The words; ' _love,'_ and _'sorry,'_ were written in excessive detail.

_'Was this a love letter or a goodbye letter?'_

His eyes kept wandering across the paper, reading along as emotions in the letter had spilt out from within. He felt nothing from the letter — Lucius probably didn't feel anything too when he had received it.

**_February 14th, 1971_ **

**_DEAR LUCIUS,_ **

_I'm sorry for ever trying to love you. I'm sorry that I have put shame towards your family for not being in their standards. But I am not sorry for being a Muggle-Born._

_You can hate me all you want for lying about my Blood Status, but I do not deserve to be called a MudBlood. I've kept it up for too long, but I now see that you only wanted me as a Pure-Blood, which is something I am not._

_I am writing this letter on the floor of the girls' lavatory, on my seventeenth birthday. You may not care but it's the only birthday that I have endured without my parents. They're gone now, we all will be soon._

_Perhaps, this love wasn't meant to be. I know your parents are happier when you're with Narcissa rather than me. And now as you are nearing your graduation, we won't be able to see each other again._

_And I'm happy with that because now my heart beats for Nicholas. He loves me for me and is willing to fight against Pure-Blood supremacy._

_And perhaps, our Slytherin and Ravenclaw love was meant to be ripped away — and it's alright._

_However, I cannot forgive you for the names you have called me, nor the responsibility for my parents deaths._

_Even though we may see each other in school for four more months, this is my last letter to you._

_Odelia Quinn._

"Odelia?" he mumbled, leaning against the headboard of his bed.

He had noticed the name before — the name was engraved on a Ravenclaw plaque. But hadn't quite remember what for.

_Quidditch Captain?_

_Head Girl?_

Either way, his father had a fling with a Muggle-Born girl. Someone who was born in the fucking Muggle world.

His face waved a disgust in tone that had been plastered over his face. The boy felt a ray of dusted hypocrisy from his father — hypocritical to believe in Pure-Blood supremacy but converse with someone who was not a Pure-Blood.

The candlelight flickered within a gentle breeze of the inside, annoying the blond with every huffing breath of irritation.

It was irritable to discover a ceasing truth about his father's schooling days at Hogwarts. But, he still thought that his blood status was still stronger and superior to those who weren't.

He carefully hid the rest of the envelopes in the nook of his drawer — the one that hardly anyone ever peered in. But as a safety concern, he locked the drawer down with a small pristine silver key that usually was strung around his neck that was attached to a thin dangling necklace.

Hoping to uncover more secrets about his father from the girl's letters.

_Odelia's letters._


	19. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

**FLORINA CATES** **ﾐ** **·** ⋆  
  
  


**DECEMBER 22, 1995**

**A MEADOWY CLEARING GUIDED** the grassland paths towards a lavished gate, with florals engraved into the bronzed metal. The gate heavily creaked, flourishing the daisies as it had swept the grass floors.

Woodlands surrounded the front gates of the cottage and the home itself. It was trapped in the serenity within the nestled forest — calm in the brisk warmth in the safety of the surrounding nature.

" _Merci, Marie_ ," Flora thanked the older woman.

Marie was an elderly eccentric witch who came from the rags of France— poor in the dire darkness of stability, but wealthy in salvation and pure kindliness.

She resided alongside the careful outskirts of the gate, in a tiny warmly home that sniffed an essence of Spring mixed within frosted flakes.

Odelia couldn't bear to leave her home— not when Voldemort had risen once again. Instead, she had asked the elderly woman who used to take care of the three Cates' children to bring them from King's Cross Station.

And she did.

Luna Lovegood and Ziva Zabini waved their eyes to the flowing waves of the faint blooms of winter. Wintry specks had barely covered the greenery— at least, not in the transparent layer that protected the cottage from winter.

Odelia loved Spring, and she settled permanently on an endless Spring in the protective domed layer. Steered her heart to the heavenly flutters of the blooming warmth of the slightest summers.

Flora furrowed and eyed Adrian, walking alongside her friends as she had tightly knitted her arms to her chest. Focusing her sight and grazing over the flesh of his facial features, with an obvious fierce of piercing annoyance.

The older boy could sense the glazing projection of her pupils over his tilted head as he glanced away to the natures. However, his body slowed from his friend, and legs stiffened as he sauntered next to the girl.

"Hi—"

"Fuck off," she muttered, stealing the wording from his mouth and slowly stepping away from his side. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I said I'm sorry. But do you blame me for accidentally taking the serum as Warrington asked me questions?"

"Yes, yes I do," Flora paced her steps, trailing behind Ziva and Luna who were talking with Eros.

It was a five-minute walk from the front gates to the cottage — a stroll within the brisk freshness of the springing florals amongst the greenery.

"I told you, it is not my fault."

"You better fucking shut up, before I get Arius to eat you," her mutters were finished by Arius' echoing croak from above the trees. As the Raven swooped down to nestle on her shoulders, their heads both turned to face the boy, "and he's very hungry."

Adrian jolted his legs, starting his body as he followed his breathing mists towards Eros. And glancing back to the girl as she dismissed the bird away from her shoulder with a swish of a commanding finger.

Her eyelids hesitantly dragged a close over her eyes, inhaling a softening faint of dew mist from the outcome of the rainfall. She sensed the need to rage, but she had to be calm.

And especially as they had approached the front paths of the home.

The cottage exterior bore two levels, with the front supporting pillars had been painted in a lustre of gold and lines that carved in with hues of blue raven and bronze. The main walls were of a cream-based colour mixed with a slight texture of wooden surface around.

Ferns and dark pines of vines dangled along the rim of the windows and down the edges of the walls and roofs.

The front gardens grew copious collections of flowers — Cymbidium orchids blossomed a shade of Camille pink, Lilacs spruced a periwinkle, and Snapdragons coloured a great deal of magical magenta and tangerine.

It had all neatly tied the home to a secure, homely warmth.

The front door curved an arch within the splintered surface of the deep brown of the Mahogany wood, and with a small window peering up the top of the door. The rim of the doorframe has enticed a great colour of glinting Prussian blue with decorative pieces of rose petals.

_Spring but within the layer of Winter._

Flora laced her fingers around the silvery texture of the doorknob, holding onto as she twisted it with might, however, unable to move it from the place. "Locked."

Her knuckles connected to the wooden surface, rhythmically touching with each knocking tap of the door — waiting for the door to be unlocked from inside.

The door swept the floors, tightly creaking open as a smaller girl with flowing dark curls appeared with a wide grin. The skin around her eyes creased within the glinting joy in her eyes.

"Flori," she fitted her arms around the girl's frame, hugging the missed warmth.

Flora ran her fingers thoroughly through her younger sister's curls, and her fingers buried beneath the dark locks. "Is mum in there?"

"Yeah she's in the kitchen," her index finger extended to a hallway fitted to the front entrance of the home.

Eros followed her finger inside, trailed in front of Adrian as they both dropped their pieces of luggage in each of their rooms, and greeting Odelia along the way.

The youngest Cates sibling grazed her eyes over to the two unfamiliar girls, smiling with ease as she greeted the pair, "hello, I'm Melia."

"Hi, my name's Ziva and this is Luna."

"You two are very pretty," she confidently complimented the girls, and before leading them into the cottaged home.

Luna and Ziva hastily stopped as they noticed the older woman in the kitchen, they watched with astonished stares longingly at her. Their eyes grazed over the woman who had her back turned slightly from the girls.

Odelia Cates dusted the oak flooring with the sweep of the flowing fabric of her dress — lilac flowered the base of her dress, with tulles of ruffle along the rim and the sleeves. Golden ribbon laced alongside the hem and the sewed lines of the waist and the ruffles.

The woman's dark curled hair swept past her backside, curling down to the ankles and matching the length of the dress. Gold thinly rings spread through the twisted coils of her strands, and miniature pieces of lavender flowers had been scattered throughout.

Luna's heart fluttered with each lovingly stares, tightly focused on the woman's elegant attire and the way her hair swirled with every head turn.

"Hello," Odelia swivelled her bare feet to face the girls. "You two must be Florina's friends, am I right?"

"Y-Yes," Luna was hesitant on where to place her hands. "My name's Luna and this is Ziva," she continued, swerving her finger to and from the girl.

The woman's face lit of a glow, "I'm making pies. Do you two want any specific type of sweet fillings?"

"Umm— strawberry and rhubarb?"

"Yes, of course, I'll bake that. Flora, love can you show the girl's the room they'll be staying in?" her fingers stretched for the dishes in the upper wooden cabinets.

"Sure," her head briskly gestured the pair to follow her and ushering guidance through the halls of the home.

The wooden floorboards faintly creaked, swift steps flourished above as the trio heaved their feet up the wooden spiralling stairs. The stairs were supported by a curving railing of bronze and with a string of vines wrapped around.

The cottage from the exterior had looked quite cosy and small, however, compared to the interior, it was much larger.

The girls stepped to the second floor, following a long hallway filled with scattered doors to each room. And with a sharp turn of the rustic halls, they appeared to a rigid olden door. The girl reached for the handle, twisting it with care as she pushed the surface of the material with a gentle touch of her fingertips.

The door swung back, exposing the contents inside the room — a king-sized bed sat to the middle of the room, the bed frame squared around the bed — a bed canopy. Fabrics of tulle draped over the side of the bed, ribbons tied to the curtains of the canopy with resins of butterflies attached to the drapes.

To the left of the room had stood a wall with a painted renaissance of angels with golden flakes throughout the cracks of the stone.

"You two don't mind sharing a bed right?"

"Not at all," Ziva responded, staring around the lit room. "This room is so fucking gorgeous. I'm in love with that art on the wall."

"Oh yeah? Melia painted it."

"No fucking way, holy shit it's amazing," she guided her body towards the wall, grazing her palms over the painted surface.

"I feel—feel like I belong here," Luna let her body sink against the sage tinted silken sheeted cover, relaxing her arms around the soft texture. "It feels like a dream. Oh please let me stay here for a little longer."

"My love, you can stay whenever you want. Melia and Eros can be annoying at most times," Flora collapsed herself to the rim of the doorframe, leaning her arms over the framed body. She was flattered to see the pair fawning adoration of the home her family had escaped to after their father was murdered.

It wasn't the beachside home they had before, but it was better.

"Can we help your mum bake the pies?" Ziva stood herself near the edge of the bed frame, after dragging her luggage to the floor. "I wanna know how she makes them."

"Okay."

The hallway walls lit glows of golden tinges painted amongst the afternoon, rays seeped through the opening cracks of the window — blasting a forceful mist of sunshine.

The wooden floors hidden beneath the rustic feel of the sage velvet rug had faintly scraped the surface of their skin, with the sensitivity tickling from the crinkles. It was nice to feel the wood flooring against the under the flesh of the sole.

The kitchen whipped a scent of sugary sweetened rhubarb and fruity soured strawberries, mixing within the fiery surface of the stovetop.

Electricity was not as common in the Wizarding world as in the Muggle world, however, there were some points of electricity that did work in the cottage. And that was because there wasn't as much magic in the home rather than Godrics Hollow or Hogwarts.

"Flora, can you sign that parchment paper?" Odelia extended her fingertips to point to a certain parchment that had been sitting on the table.

The girl nodded, tightly focusing her eyes on the singular paper as she proceeded to place a pen in between her fingers.

"Not with the pen," the woman interrupted, locating her eyes to a particular quill above the sheet. "The quill needs to be used, remember?"

"What's it for?" Ziva asked with utter curiosity.

"It's just for the Ministry, nothing serious."

"Oh-" her voice trailed off, feeling her shirt tug as she followed her head to look down at an elf. "Hello, What is your name?"

"Aerin can't hear you, she is deaf," Flora signed an introduction, extending two fingers over another two, and as she explained to her friends, letting the small elf communicate too.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't realise."

"No! Don't be sorry. I don't think it's common to have a house-elf that is deaf," she continued, smiling a sincere glow to the elf. "We don't treat her as a working slave like most households do, but rather more like she's family. And because she is family to us — always have been."

"I love that," Luna gently kneeled to the house-elf and brushed her fingers over the surface of her skin.

"But she can read lips. She also loves to help around the house and I think it's nice."

"Aerin loves to show guests the photo book she holds around," Melia entered the room, stepping forward with two snakes around her body — one slithering loosely around her neck and one to the surface of her arm.

"Woah. Y-you, realise that you have snakes wrapped around your body... r-right?" Ziva widely peered to the snakes that covered the remaining bare body limbs.

"Yes, but they are very harmless," the younger girl giggled.

"Although..." Flora attended to the black adder serpent that had been swirled around Melia's right arm and holding it to her hand. "This one is very aggressive, I guess because that's why he's my favourite — his name is Loki." The snake cosied a place around her waist.

"What's a Loki?"

"It's from a series of stupid comic books she always reads," Melia annoyingly rolled her eyes, holding a white snake she had from the flesh of her neck.

"They're not stupid — more like cool. Do you two want to go see the lake in the forest?" Flora asked.

"I was just hoping to help your mum bake the pies..." Ziva suggested, twirling her fingers in a fidgeting motion. "If that's okay?"

"Me too!" Luna ushered a response.

"All good, I'm going to let Loki have a wander around the forest," she sauntered to the back door, sliding her palm over the wood as it pushed open.

The woodland forest was easily visible around the cottage, the rough greenery of the leaves was nestled against the faintest winds. A great olden willow tree was settled in the middle of the clearing.

Her bare feet were buried in the sweeping grasslands of the grass and dandelions. Her skin grazed past the softened sprinkles of chilled dew from the thin curves of the tall grass.

The black snake curved around her waist, clutching against the surface of the textured fabric of her clothes. The black and white snakes were originally her father's when he used to affiliate himself with the Death Eaters. The snakes were balanced — without each other, they would not live an ample amount of time in the world.

Flora's sight viewed the scenery, however, coming to a halt as she noticed her brother and Adrian in the distance.

_'Why the fuck does Adrian have to spend Christmas here?'_

"Hi."

"Hello, I'm going to get something from inside. You two stay here okay?" Eros jolted himself away from the pair, following the surrounding breeze of a wintering afternoon.

"So..."

"Don't talk to me," she snapped a snarl.

"Okay But—"

"I'm so fucking annoyed at you right now. Why did you say to Warrington that I was easy to fuck? And because I 'begged' for you at the party," her harsh tones voiced around the chilling winds.

"Fucking hell, how many times do I have to say that I accidentally drank Veritaserum."

"No. The serum only amplifies your thoughts, and you thought that I was easy," scattered sprinkles of watery mist had brushed to her skin, trickling down her arm.

_Rainfall_.

Rain now splattered drips alongside the fleshes, and shivers splintered to each limb of their bodies with chills.

The clouds darkened a grey in contrast and heaved a sudden thundering rumble throughout the sky, covering the remaining light that had been glimpsing down in rays.

_She knew what this meant. The rain._

Dark wisps of black mist had trailed around the girl, grazing over the grass grounds and covering the surface with darkness.

Adrian was no longer in sight — but yet, a figure of death appeared to her. But it wasn't the usual young boy that she would hallucinate, however, it was rather an old lover that was doomed to death.

_Hunter._

His eyes shadowed darkened soulless life, and as his arms stretched tightly into the pockets of his pants, reaching to attain a glinted speck of metal. The metal had protruded from out of his pockets, and oak base had trailed behind.

An arrow.

_The_ arrow.

The boy pressed the metal tip to his throat, showing a deep wound in his neck as he slid it into the surface of his skin — easily passing through his neck as he smiled a grin of malice.

Warm drips of crimson tripped down her neck, hovering her fingers over her throat as she glanced at the blood on the top of the tips of her fingers. Waves of terror passed through expressions of her eyes, focusing on the snake that was nestled on her waist.

Flora painstakingly swirled her index finger to the snake, guiding him to initially curve around the boy's neck. He did. The snake slithered through the rustles of the grass, grazing itself over his body and tightly locking the boy in it's wrapping.

A painful sting forcefully pierced into her arm and feeling a tight grasp of hands to her shoulders as she noticed her body shutting down. Her eyes weakened from opening, as black envisioned her sight.

Eros held to her body with a syringe filled with a flowing substance of a darkened purple liquid. And before attending to Adrian who wrongfully had been attacked with the snake instead of the disappearing boy.   
  


━━━━━━━━━━  
  


Her head heaved a tilt with pounds of a headache against the wall of her brain. She lifted her hand to the crown of her head, massaging the area where her head had hit against the ground.

"Fuck," she uttered, grazing a brush of her fingers of the right arm. "Why does it have to hurt so bad?"

The liquid content in the syringe had impaired her body for hours — a sleeping draught to help settle her from more damage that she had been doing to Adrian without noticing.

She hadn't realised that it was another hallucination, and the ghostly boy wasn't there. Instead, she had unknowingly attacked Adrian with the snake.

Flora's body forwarded up from the silken covers of her bed, resting the soles of her feet against the cool wood of the floor. Placing her palms to the sheet as she lifted herself from the bed.

_Twelve in the morning._

_December 23rd._

She hesitantly swung the door open with ease as she entered the following hallway, however, clutching a candlelit lantern on her dresser before strolling through the halls.

Her body swerved the corner, creaking amongst the floorboards of the stairs as she slightly stumbled her way down, utterly clutching to the railing. Glimpsing upon the glowing lustres of light from candles in the living room.

Flora moved from the bottom step, allowing her body to be guided by the forcefulness of the compelling light.

The candle sat still next to a shining plaque of wood underneath the main panel of silver with a framed Morpho butterfly stuck to the centre of the plaque. Her father's body transfigured into his favourite species of butterflies.

Her fingertips slid alongside the glass of the framed butterfly, clutching to the plaque as she lifted it from the main mantle. Her eyes slithered to the engraved lettering of the wood.

_'Nicholas Willard Cates.'_   
_'31st October 1952 — 20th December 1988.'_

Tingles of faint bells jingled in the distance, past the halls that connected the arching door to the back forests. She had merely heard the whispers of the jingled tones as she clutched the panel underneath her arms.

Rustling trees against the benign winds of flowing air had spiked a brisk force as she pushed the door open, revealing an open clearing of glowing bugs. And to the grass paths, she trailed through the cracks of the dirt towards the edge of the lake.

The lake to the outskirts of the forest was just as calm as the west of the woodlands where a fountain had laid, surrounded with more bodies of florals.

Flora sensed an essence of Faery magic in the wintering woodlands of the cottage — ever since she had moved to the cottage, seven years ago. It was more than just a faeries realm in the haunting atmosphere.

Spirits were believable to her, but after all, her brother never really believed her, thought they were 'silly unconventional stories.'

_Alice's sister._

_As silly and unconventional as magic is?_

Her bare feet just merely touching the edge of the darkened lake as she prepared to sit down with the plaque in her warmly grasp. And her lantern just resting alongside her, on top of the dirtied flooring from the results of earlier.

A salted singular tear dropped a splash into the cracks of the plaque, seeping beneath where the glass met the oak wooden base. She tried so hard to suck up her tear, but she was alone in the night— alone to do whatever she had to.

"W-why didn't you fight back? Why didn't you fight those slaves of You-Know-Who?" she mumbled, catching another tear on the rim of her drying lips. "It's been seven years and I still miss you daddy— I can't get myself to say father because I lost you so young."

Fresh silence fell upon the atmosphere. Breathing in a deep, chilling breath as she struggled to inhale the stutters of her body.

"I don't know if you're proud that I'm in Ravenclaw, b-because you've always said that I'll be great in Slytherin. That was the day I threw a dagger and accidentally stabbed Eros' hand," Flora stumbled upon her words, choking a cough as clouds of dust flowed into her throat.

"I wish I could see you one last time."

The girl could've easily transfigured the butterfly back to his human state, but her sight would've painted his tortured flesh lying in a lifeless body over the grass.

It was better to leave him as the shape he was now.

Her hands grazed the back of the room plaque, however, stumbling her fingers over a jagged layer of parchment paper. Turning the object to a flip as she examined the structure of the placement of an envelope.

Flora slipped the envelope from the nook of the plaque, obtaining a tightly sealed envelope that was never sent.

" _Lucius?"_

The careful strict curves of the lettering had brought an attentive detail that it was her father's handwriting addressed to a Lucius.

She was about to dive towards an impulsive gesture of opening the letter to find out what her father wanted to address, however, she could hear long whispers tinging to the outskirts of her eardrums.

" _Did you miss me?"_ a familiar tone called beside her, following the voicing trail as she whipped her head to see the same boy from before. _"Or did you miss that boy you sent love letters to while we dated?"_

The ghostly boy with dark curled tips of his strands crossed his legs, tightly resting his frame and sitting next to her.

" _Hunter_. But you're— you're dead."

"I guess I am, but I have to admit, being in that godforsaken casket was too fucking boring for me _,_ " he examined his fingers, focusing with every direction of his hands. "You know what I mean?"

"No, I don't."

Hunter's heaving exhales stumbled within his malicious chuckles, "that's right, you don't know what it feels like to be dead for a year. But you know what you did to me and that guilt is filling your heart."

"I have no idea what you mean," her eyes flickered back and forth, pupils small in terror as she watched his face.

"You can lie your way out of it but I was the one who paid the price. Let me ask you this, what made you hesitate to take the arrow out?"

The girl contemplated, shadowing upon her answer as she couldn't think of a reasonable one. "Hunter, I was almost fifteen and scared. I-I didn't know what to do in that situation."

"But you still let me bleed out. You let me bleed from my wounds and still went to my funeral with fake fucking tears."

"They weren't fake. Please, I promise you they weren't fake," Flora glimpsed at his sunken eyes, darkening with fiery anger.

"Don't lie. But I promise you, you will get what's coming to you," he turned to examine the brisk chills of her body, resting his palm against her rushing cheek. "I'll see you in hell soon, bitch."

The girl's hand waved to clutch to his arm, however, missing as he had already dismissed himself from the Earth.

' _Another hallucination in my head.'_  
  
  



	20. 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW | Little depictions of cannibalism, consumption of animal blood, animal deaths, blood, knives, unintentional satanic dealings. (This is all near the end of the chapter.)

**FLORA'S PUPILS DAZED OVER THE SNAKE AND RAVEN** , beating wide as it merely appeared to the iris. She bopped her head to the croaking squeals of the raven and the angsty bewildering hisses of the adder snake.

"Stop! Arius, stop picking the skin of Loki," she waved her hand to the sways of Arius' raving feathery features. "I sound crazy talking to a bunch of animals," words muttered within her breaths — exhaling the wintry dews.

Loki's dark iridescent scales reflected amongst the springing rays of the golden light. He ecstatically slithered a forking tongue out — grovelling across the low tides of the grass with ease.

He contrasted with the vibrancy of the greenery.

It was nearing the conclusion of the holidays, and she struggled to fit her mindset back into the school regime. Especially if Umbridge was going to 'expose' her for something she believed to be true.

A few days after the girl had attacked Adrian with her snake, she felt a ray of guilt stumbling across her face to paint a — great dismay of herself.

It was like she was going mad.

Mad as a hatter. But, it was more of losing herself to something greater and yet, unexplainable — she didn't know what, at least not just yet.

The girl abandoned her sight from the two animals, steering to the serene surface of the gentle waters of the lake. And the heaving beats of her heart paced around, thumping against the walls as she stared longingly into the waters — it was fear that had spiked a brisk dread.

A deep fear of the bodies of water — pouring the shallows of her pitiful stomach, and evaporating the moisture from the walls of her throat. Anxious to keep staring, but she had no idea why she was afraid of the water.

She had no bad experiences with water — at least, not what she _remembered_.

She laid her eyes upon the olden piece of parchment paper from the sealed envelope, and the written lettering was intrusive towards the receiver. But, the contents were intriguing to her.   
  
  


**_DECEMBER 25th, 1982_ **

**_Lucius,_**  
I know you do not wish to hear from me, but I beg you to restore and break what Bellatrix has done to my children.

The curse. It is ancient and dark, but I do not know how to break the curse that has laid upon them, and you are the only one I know who knows the undoing of the spell — or Bellatrix or Narcissa.

I have looked longingly for some answers, and during my teaching times at Hogwarts, it has let me down.

And I know I have abandoned the Death Eaters for a hopeful life, but it was not my intention to mentor Regulus out of it too. 

**_— Nicholas._ **  
  
  
  


" _What curse?_ "

Her fingertips marked a full dent in the soils of the ground, playing with the leafy greenery as she swirled the tip of her nails around the rim of the grass. Patting in place as she locked the snake, curved around her arm.

"I'm sorry for using you as an escape attack. You don't deserve to be used for violence, and I should've known that." The brim of her lips brushed against his slithering scales. "We should head inside soon huh?"

One last inhale of the dewy mists of dawn had awoken her body from a mediative trance.

Flora connected her palms to the ground, silencing the hushed nestles of the lengthy grass from the winds. And heaving her body to the winded rhythms of the ghostly noises — a spiritual haven in forms of necromancy.

She could sense their energies.

Her bare feet draped over the grass flooring, light steps wandered off the floral trail and towards the back door of the cottage. Her hands clasped to the knob, squeezing a twist and pushing against the wall of the wood.

Flora noticed Ziva and Luna on the sage velvet chaise lounge, examining a patterned book filled with photographs, and with Aerin standing next to them. The house-elf proudly pointed to a range of photos from different years.

"What are you three doing?" Flora stood closer, resting on a nearby couche.

"Aerin wanted us to look through the photos— is that you?" Ziva slid her finger to a particular picture. The picture painted a vision, a vision of a young girl holding a pristine dagger, and with an older man crouching next to her.

"Yeah, that was me when I was... eight? Yeah, definitely when I was eight. And that's my dad next to me."

"No way, your dad is ho—" Ziva hastily stopped her wording, and before considering the past tense. "I meant was."

Flora peered a slight smile before glancing at her sister who was rested amongst the furred rug. "Melia, where's mum?"

"Strawberry picking."

"That is my dream!" Luna peaked up her voice, dazed smiles swept a mere grin as she stared longingly at everyone in the room. "To live in a cottage and pick little fruits, and lay on the creaking wooden floors of the top floors. And with the elegant flows of my dress dancing a rhythm."

"Woah, that is some dream huh? Please be my new sister," Melia begged, sitting upright near the two girls. "You fit in here so well."

"I'd like that," the blonde girl shimmered a soft smile, her pearls glinted a sparkle through the flashes of her mouth.

"I'm sure mum would love to adopt more, however, she probably had enough after Melia was born."

Aerin stretched her thinly fingers, flicking past tales of pictures from memorable years, and with wide eyes, hinting a little sheer expression. She loved the stories of the photos, heaving her finger to slide across the glossing materials.

Pictures of Eros when he was twelve resurfaced, waving his broomstick with pure achievement when he had attained a treasured spot in the Slytherin quidditch team.

And one with Flora and Cedric grew attention — the young girl, pictured with her arms wrapped around him as she planted a childish kiss to his cheek.

It was perhaps ten years ago — the photograph was.

Flora bopped her head to each flick of the pages, crinkles peeked a crease near her eyelids, however, faintly smoothed as she noticed Adrian and Eros walking into the room. She could feel the older boy's intensifying, yet aggrieved stares dominating the warm attention of the atmosphere.

Adrian's pale flesh had spotted a strangle of marks, clutching faint red stains of curved wraps around his neck.

Snake marks slithered the curve.

"I think you owe me an apology," he intruded, hushing a wave of silence to fall upon in the room. "Actually, not think—you definitely owe me an apology."

"I'm going to sit down for this one." Eros squeezed himself next to Luna and Ziva, sipping to his cup as he pleasantly watched the two. "Watch her struggle with this," he whispered to the two girls.

"What fucking apology?" Flora questioned, eyeing the boy with dark forces — unapologetic to him, it was unintentional to attempt an attack.

"Oh I don't know, how about when you ordered your pet to attack me? And with no explanation as to why you did it?"

"Maybe next time don't be a target to him!" The girl hastened to her feet, furrowing a calamitous of deep wrinkles of painless pressure.

Adrian sighed a reckless silencing of breaths, gripping his strength to the stretching frame of the couche. "I don't want to argue alright? I just want you to apologise and stop being a salted bitch."

"Damn, he just called your sister a bitch," Ziva leaned slightly towards Eros, brushing her arm against his.

"And? It's about time someone put her in her place," he remarked, merely quieting himself as to not draw attention from the depths of the twos antagonistic bickers.

"Wait what? How come you're the protective older brother in school?"

Eros shrugged off, reclining into the cushioned furniture, "Because, in school, I am a Prefect and I have a reputation, but out of school... I couldn't care less."

"Umm, okay then."

Mild tensions ascended, bickering chatters spread throughout and glares infiltrated away from the common ground. And before Flora gave in with the effort to make amends.

"Alright Fine! I'm—I'm so—I'm.."

"You're what?" Adrian slid his fingers the rim of his earlobe, motioning a tight 'what did you say?' expression. "Spit. It. Out."

"Watching her trying to say sorry is the equivalent to me friending some lunatic at school— it's not going to happen. Uh no offence Loony," Eros wavered a sincere feature, painting an outline of entire ignorance.

The two girls glanced to each other, puzzled as what to respond to his comparisons. Ziva heard her fatal attraction to the older boy gearing away from her heart. She was no longer interested in him — he was just like everyone else who noticed Luna as a girl who was 'mad.'

But, she was more than just eccentric.

"Okay, Okay. I'm sor—I'm— _sorry_ ," she mumbled, lightly inaudible.

"I didn't hear it."

"Are you fucking kidding me?! You did hear it!" Flora swelled her thoughts, gaining a foothold to the nook of her rug as she strengthened her body to the tight flooring. And collapsed a sigh, defeated in her stubbornness, "I'm sorry. Are you happy now?"

"Fucking hell! Finally!" Eros interrupted, hurried to a stance and clapping within the sarcasm of his words. "But in all honesty, I got bored throughout most of the conversation." The boy stood from the girl, dragging his friend to the back door of the cottage.

" _Dickhead_."

"I have no idea what just happened." Ziva regained limited insight into the dramatised apology. "Also, how come your brother acts completely different from school?"

"I don't know. Why? Fallen out of love?"

Ziva dropped her shoulders calmly, "You could say that."

"Bloody hell, this is the closest I get to free entertainment." Melia placed her palm to the floor, heaving herself up and sauntering towards the kitchen.

Flora connected her fingers in a swirl, indicating a sign to the house-elf and mouthing instructions — Aerin trusted her fingers, nodding with grace as she waddled heavily to the top level.

"Funny how Flora turned Malfoy into a badger when Moody transfigured him into a ferret last year," Ziva reminisced the fourth year.

"I remember that!"

The girl coughed a laugh. "Wait what?"

"I don't know who was threatening who, but it was the absolute funniest thing I've seen. I think Malfoy started it?—"

"Did you say Malfoy?" Odelia flourished the room, clutching a weaving basket to her arm, filled with berries of the ripened sweetness of blueberries and closely soured strawberries.

"Yea?"

The older woman stood the basket to the counter, hurrying to a nearing locked room with every swishing flick of her longing curls. The eerie creaks of the wood hung around the surface— hushing a silence suddenly as she closed the door.

The room had been closed in a special locking spell to outcast the unwanted snoops. However, she believed that her father's belongings would reside within those walls.

Mysterious to seek, but she was intrigued to follow the hums of security — even if she had to use magic while underage.  
  
  


━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  
The last of the hallway doors had creaked to a close. She listened to the obvious footsteps from the upstairs — who was readying up to their bed.

Flora waved her finger to the limp flickers of the candlelight, her eyes dissecting the internal tone of the golden hues glowing around the blue.

She was alone in the living room, but with only the tedious darkness that surrounded the candlelight.

The girl picked to the candle holder with her other hand grasping at the wooden surface of the wand. She synced with the waving hushed flickers of the light, moving against the darkened hallway as golden tints bruised the remaining walls — copious colours of canary and bronze contrasted.

Her feet hefted upon the splintering wooden floors of the home, her soles slipping further with each tickling prick of the wood. The whimsical brushes of the squeaking air had preyed to the brim of her ears — a mere hush of breaths gated in her mouth.

Anticipation stumbled a tear to her body.

Flora stretched her fingers over the silvers of the doorknob — winter numbed her palm, and chilling pain shivered her hands. The twists of the knob stayed strong against the movements of her fingers.

_Locked as usual._

" _Alohomora,"_ she muttered, pointing the tip of her wand to the rim of the handle. Hurrying her hand to graze on the knob as she turned it to the right.

_Nothing._

The door hadn't budged, nor twisted to an opening.

"What the fuck?" The girl gritted her teeth against each other, thinking deep into her eyes as she wandered her glances at the door. " _Aberto."_

The successful click had damaged the lock to the door as it scraped past the wall, denting a locked mark in the wood.

Steps pressed to the floor, goosebumps shivered amongst her skin with little warmth seeping through the room.

Piles of cardboard boxes shifted to the corners as her feet pushed around. Cobwebs built a place within the dusting specks of the cranny of the room, and pages of parchments scattered the dark.

Flora laid upon the thick pages of books, soot-covered the outer layer of the skin — the skin of the hardened covers. Her hand brushed over the books, peering into the titled words of the three books on top of each other.

_'Tales of the Grimm.'_

_'Ancient Curses Throughout History.'_

And—

" _The Malicious Intentions of Necromancy."_ Her sight staled to the last book, flicking through the olden pages of the thickened book. "Necromancy? That sounds oddly familiar."

_Oddly familiar, yet convenient._

_Necromancy — the practice of communicating with the dead, to gain insight into the future or wanted information, or bring someone back from the dead._

"Bring someone back from the dead?" she mumbled, her eyes glued to the specific page.

It was merely impossible to bring someone back from the dead with modern magic, but with the traditional magic— she was desperate. It was endless to think about reuniting with her father and Cedric.

However, Death Magic would inflict serious consequences on whoever would practice without the proper work.

_Different rituals in different practices would require other ingredients. This ritual would require; the consumption of the blood of those before the swine — an offering to Circe, the dripping blood of the necromancer, and a drop of snake venom and an item from the spirit you seek._

_All placed in a chalice, in the middle of the circle to be consumed, with the symbols of the Runic alphabet wording out 'Death in Divination.'_

"Interesting."

Flora turned the cover back to the original state, heaving the book from the table as she held it underneath her arms. Clutching her other hand to the candle holder as she worked her legs out of the room.

Vulnerable, but she had all the required ingredients to do the ritual. That would the first time in seven years she would be able to speak to her father — but eventually, she would bring him back.

_Or so she thought._

The girl waved her hand towards the guidance of the darkness, the light lustred the kitchens — hovering her fingers over the edge of the counter, and picking out the sharpest knife from the pack. She slid the knife to the side of her pocket, slipping deep in a hidden compartment.

_The venom of a snake._

Her eyes grazed past the table, however, quickly spotting an emptied small vial resting on the wood. Coincidental to find the very best object to contain the venom in.

A small drop of venom from her snakes would not be lethal but instead, would inflict little pain.

The intrusive hisses of Loki had scared her to a jolt, his body slithered up her leg, wrapping to a curve as he pushed himself further up her body. The girl rushed her hand to his scales, lifting him tightly and nearing her face — pressing the vial to his fang, milking the venom drop into the tube.

She held him back to the table, her fingers prickled over the scales as she followed her index up his body. The dried residue of the moisture printed off from his scales and to the creasing prints of her fingers.

_The blood of the pig._

Sighs filled the cracks of her mouth, gripping to the intense pain of killing an animal — however, she wasn't as caring towards the pig as she was towards the death of her cat.

_It was a farm animal for fucks sake — it needed to be killed for food._

Flora clutched to the lantern in her right hand, with the vial and the knife hidden in the depths of her pocket, and while the book was secured underneath her arms.

The temperature had transitioned to a wintry essence of brisk chills, surrounding the outside of the home with the flows of the surfacing leaves in the winds. She guided herself to the north of the woodland forests, waving her head away from the strands that flowed to her face.

Her father's family owned the abandoned farm near the cottage, filled with pigs that squealed in the dawn visits. Pigs that would be useful when offering a sacrifice to the goddess who transfigured men to swine.

There was a clearing up on the outskirts of both the farm and the cottage — a wilted willow tree resided between the lands. And it was a splendid area to conjure up her dead father's ghost. She sensed the bitter soils from the utter grounded swells from the dusk.

_Three in the morning._

It was the peak of the Witching Hour.

The book had passed slowly down from underneath her arms, slipping with every lugging steps she treaded amongst the grasslands — almost slipping to the ground as she forcefully lunged herself forwards.

It wasn't smart to dive into something with such little experience, but she felt the need to take the opportunity to seek her father.

The clearing was merely hidden in transparency as she pained her way from the mists, barely limping around from her ankle being almost sprained when she had missed the slip. Flora had dropped her required materials to the floor, attempting to pick up where she left off after she got the blood of the pig.

"This is so fucking crazy," she uttered, words panting their way from the tip of her tongue. "This better work."

All that had been strapped to her body was the knife and her wand, the lantern holder was tightly sealed in the clasps of her fingers — her fingers stung numb, cracking the stiff joints from the wintry atmospheric texture.

Her bare feet snuck into the nestling rustles of the grass. Moving forward with desiring determination, and the struggling wave of her hands brushing the flesh that had attracted the strands of her hair. The wind was merely a defensive distraction against her body.

_Fucking annoying that was for sure._

Flora sighted the animals, the ones that slept in the olden sheds of the night— dusk before dawn, she grazed her eyes over the swine that trotted the mushes of pig slops. She searched for one that would be beneficial for the sacrificial offering— one that looked somewhat worthy to be offered as a bloody token.

She scouted one that was isolated from the rest, rested in a trance of the food coma and laid to the edge of their stomach.

_This was going to be easygoing — hunting in the wilding night was easy._

The girl toed forward, hovering her eyes over the pig and her hand clutched the handle of the knife — crouching forward as she loosely laid one bare hand to the prickling texture of the animal. Flora held the sharpener object, cursing her mind to not intrude — she was out of it.

Desperate for information, she cleared her mind for a second, stopping and briefly thought about what she was about to do. "What am I doing? How can I rush into something with no experience? But, perhaps doing this will give me more experience?"

Too late, she was impulsive.

The agonising squeals scarcely echoed throughout the forest, a mere second before that and the animal was struck in the heart. She pained herself to heaved the blade from the flesh of the pig, lifting with anticipation as she reached the metal — dripping down warm crimson.

It was late to quit. She had to know unexplainable things — too many unexplained things and thoughts.

She prepared the pig to her body, gripping to the bloodied body of the animal in one hand. Metallic reeked the outline of her nostril, filling explicit details of the tangy scent throughout her breathing.

Wandering the forest grounds, directing herself to the familiar paths of the clearing. Gravel struck her soles, stuck to the bare sensitive skin — digging in with every trodding step. She winced, clenching her teeth in the pure aching of discomfort.

" _Karma's a fucking bitch."_

She was Karma.

Flora laid the swine to halting rest, pushing the heavy animal to the side, and before resuming with the ritual.

The tip of her fingernails carved a deep mark in the soils, spreading it as she curved around her body — creating a precise circle. The circle where she would trap herself inside when she was ready to perform it.

To the outskirts of the outlines circle, she would mark the runic alphabet; ᛞᛖᚨᛏᚺ ‘ᛁᚾ ‘ᛞᛁᚢᛁᚾᚨᛏᛁᛟᚾ that would word out the phrase ' _Death in Divination.'_ She began to sketch two triangles — smashed together within the tips of the shapes. And ended with a strong line underneath an angled one.

She swiftly scooted herself to the centre of the circle, gathering the ingredients near her body and the candlelight warming the middle. But also, a key connection to the spiritual world.

Arius flapped the night, swooping down from the leaves of the trees and residing himself into the crown of her head.

She couldn't figure out where the chalices or goblets were kept, but she could transfigure an object into one. Her fingers caught to the strands of her hair, sliding through as she held her wand to a tap onto the raven on her hair.

" _Vera Verto."_

Flora hastily caught to the goblet, missing the fall as she clutched the glassed rim in time. The clear gloss of the object had glinted in the reflecting rays of the moonlight. Her eyes moved from the goblet, grazing over the paragraphs of information on chapters of the book of contacting the dead.

Angling the vial as she pressed it against the insides of the cup and shaking the venom from the depths of the tube. She swore that she had watched a sloth slide into the goblet as the drop of venom was stubborn to enter the rimmed cup.

She hefted the pig over the goblet — squeezing the body of the flesh as trickling drops poured into the cup, infused with the snake venom. The stench hovered near her head and as she shook the animal away from the cup.

_The blood of the Necromancer and an object or a piece of clothing from the deceased._

The girl had a necklace that had belonged to her father, and coincidentally, she was wearing it around her neck.

The sharp tip slid into her flesh, slicing her forearm — stinging sensation pricked her skin, and as the knife was pinched against her flesh. Dark blood ran from the tissued surface, dripping and encircling her arm as she stared at the wasted drops into the cup.

Breaths intensified, shaping her body straight up and lifting her wand to the tip of the goblet.

"Ego vocare vobis. I summon thee who took their last breaths from the Earth — I call upon the spirit of the deceased who struggled with, and condemned from life," she recited the summoning phrase from the book. And before holding the goblet to the cracks of her mouth, sitting against the rim of her lips — hesitant to drink from the cup.

_Fuck it._

She tipped the goblet to an angle, pouring the metallic tang to her mouth, gagging as it entered the pit of her stomach— acid burning the thickly liquid. Her eyes held shut, painting a painful expression of regret across her face.

"At least I can say that I've drunk animal blood? What the fuck, that isn't something to be proud of— it's psychotic."

Seconds hurried past and the faint outlines of smoke circled her — black clouded smoke emitting from the marked circle. Loud gurgling filled her eardrums, with the screeching chills backing the deep mumbles.

The ground quaked a rumble of thunder from underneath her, wandering her head to the intensity of the surface of the quivers.

_It was truly, a fucking mistake to meddle with death._

"Florina?" a deep-voiced called behind her.

She steered her head towards the deathly voice, familiar tone as it had belonged to her father. "Da—"

"What have you done?" his eyes stuck to wide glances, concerned expressions concealed from underneath a wave of transparent clouds of mist. "Y-you released the darkest entity of them all— from Hell."

"W-what? But, I did everything right."

"She rejected your offering."

"Impossible, I did exactly what was written. I added the blood of an animal— the pig and—"

"Exactly," the man interrupted. "You drank the blood from the animal— but it was wrong."

"Wait what?" her eyes pressed to the writing in the book, scurrying to find the instructions— _the consumption of the blood of those before the swine._ "No, it says 'the consumption of the blood of those before the swine.'"

"Yes, but Flori, before they were swine, they were humans— you needed the blood of a human. Instead, you unintentionally called upon the wrong entity. And that is the consequence for dealing with Dark Magic."

"What? N-no! What does that mean?"

"I can feel myself fading from the Earth," he whispered.

"No, you can't leave me again. I have so many questions," she begged, sweeping her arms towards the strands that flowed to her face.

"Ask me them—the next time we meet. But please, do not give yourself into Dark Magic again— just don't."

A second blink had him disappearing from the Earth, black mists flowed from the forest and darkness faded from the candlelight.

She impulsively meddled with the darkness and it backfired— whatever she had released was far from she would expect.

_Perhaps worse._

The girl laid her eyes back to the page, a shock to figure the words, but it was yet so obvious and she was the most oblivious Ravenclaw— it was still a wonder how she got placed in the house.

The act of cannibalism.  
  



	21. 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW | Slight depictions of gore and emetophobia. (Also, pre-warning, this book will cover more about darker things like blood, violence, detailed depictions of gore and others.)

**THE FIRST FEW WEEKS BACK AT HOGWARTS** had been a coaster of insidious paranoia for her. She could hear the ghostly whispers but had instead turned out to be rustles of leaves in the wind.

Perhaps she was just psyching herself out of confidence and knowing she had summoned upon a dark entity — a demon.

_A demon._

Or maybe, the spirit of her father was a trickster and the demon was scaring her to the belief that she had released something. Regardless, she feared the diving darkened hallways of each building would become a gate to the underworld.

Ridiculous to such conspiracies that involved demented torment.

The girl had been excessively producing dark sables of chunked liquid from her oesophagus — vomiting death. Her throat had been hurting within the tastes of rusted tangs of metal and the burned sensation of Hydrochloric acid. The vomit had a consistency of fluctuating textures that varied from mulched soils and dusted chunks of gravel.

Her head had been rushed with stoned influences of cultivating studies for the dead. It wasn't normal to experience the deathly symptoms that she had endured.

Flora had been to the hospital wing and her dismay, Madam Pomfrey couldn't locate anything irrational or fatal — her insides felt as if they were rotting a decomposed pile of soil within the acidic contents of her stomach.

It wasn't pleasant.

Death wasn't.

Her legs hauled sturdily, waving her head to the idiosyncrasy of the blanketed halls of dusted stones. But, she wanted to brush the sickly feeling away from her mind and classifying it as just an ill symptom.

An unidentifiable sickly feeling as it kept emerging from the pits of her stomach, sliding a force up her oesophagus to swarm her throat with the impending urge to vomit once again. But, the girl had been discharged from the hospital wing because of sour excuses that Madam Pomfrey had been accusing Flora of — except the younger girl was far from what the symptoms of a normal sickness.

She reached a narrowed hallway near the dungeons, squeezing herself within the jagged edges and before almost walking towards the blonde-haired Slytherin boy. His face scrunched to a disgusted tone as he held a secretive cigarette to a position between his index and middle.

"Can you move?"

"Can I move?" Draco eyed her, furrowing with the bottom scrunches of his cigarette clenched to his mouth. "What are you going to do when I don't? Transfigure me to a pathetic badger?"

McGonagall had cleared herself when she threatened about expulsion if Flora were to use transfiguration again as a mockery. It wasn't her first intention to use transfiguration but she didn't want to get expelled or suspended for the second time.

"Can you just move, I'm trying to get to class," she pushed herself forward, however, blocked by his body.

"I was here first. Go find a new fucking way to class."

Her breaths seethed from the intense patience she had almost buried. She held her composure as waves of anger passed from the shallows of her layered expressions. "I would love to find another way but I don't have time right now and I'm late."

"Aw really?" he dropped his face to a false sincere expression and before shrugging his shoulders, "I wish I cared—but I don't. I don't care."

"Is that what your daddy said after you told him anything minor that Harry has ever done to you? Or literally anyone," she remarked, confidently.

Draco snuck out a chuckle, "detention." His hand snaked to the wall, merely budging as she pushed his arm away from blocking the entrance. "That was your ticket to a detention, Cates."

"Are you serious?! You're a real pathetic git if you give me a detention for saying the truth."

"Don't care, I just did," he released his strength from the rough compression of the stoned wall and lifting himself off an angle.

The girl hastily pushed his arm away, clacking the outsoles of her shoes to the concrete as she bolted her way towards the hallway. " _Arsehole_ ," she cursed a mutter.

The dungeon corridors lurked a significant ray of the reeking wasted scents from potions — buried beneath the easy atmospheric layer of brisk ice. Chills spiralled the flesh of her limbs, numbing her body underneath her uniform.

Her head bricked down to her hands — faintly shaking immensely as she pushed her way towards the Potions classroom. The classroom with the students of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, working with textbooks and turning an eye to see the girl grasping herself to sit down.

"Miss Cates, I hope you realise that you are extremely late," Professor Snape affirmed, his voice a mere of annoyance within the words. "Ten points off from Ravenclaw."

Flora dropped into her sighs, releasing her books from the clenches of her clutched fingers, and dragged her body forward to the table.

"Are you okay? You look extremely bothered." Ziva brushed the delicacy of her hand over the girl's skin, printing the residue onto her fingers. "You're hot—I mean your skin is warmed to a boil... almost."

"Probably because I sped through the halls after Malfoy had blocked the way," she shrugged, sliding her index to the rim of the book. It was a travesty to have such a warped view of what she had been feeling and barely had her mind to an open.

Flora thumped her quill to a rhythm against the surface of the parchment paper, her eyes stricken towards the edges of the table — a forbidden engagement against Snape's teachings. She was barely focused on the class.

Her stares figured a faint glare from her undivided attention and to the bronzes of her pinky ring, staring longingly at a stain of a deep scarlet infusion within a tinge of brown.

_Odd._

It looked as if blood had been extracted from a drop.

A body of a woman rested upright next to her, whispering faint gurgles as her eyes emptied a dark sable black. The rims of her eyesocket had looked dried of blood and with no traces of her eyeballs anywhere— like they had been forced out and gauged mercilessly. Her frame was sickly frail with creases of skin exaggerating her ghostly appearance, and her face turned to the girl in terror.

Permanent terror.

Flora flickered her mind with ominous thoughts and stretching her view upon the eyes of the woman with a subtle fear. She waved her vision to the nook of the woman's neck — a deep gash had been dried up of the wound and blood. And almost as if her neck had been ripped to a slash, her skin was fragile with no nourishment.

Skin and bones, but she had a glow of beauty within her ghostly face —she looked young but ancient, almost if she had belonged to a different era— an ancient one, and judging by her outdated attire.

She had also noticed a print of textured snakeskin curving the woman's flesh as if a snake had been circling her body.

"It is coming," the woman mumbled, forcing her words from the slides of her tongue. "We aren't safe. We all have to die."

"W-what? What are you talking about?"

"Miss Cates!" Snape interrupted, bringing the class to look over at the girl. "Since you love to interrupt my lessons, will you answer the question?"

"Uh, what was the question?"

The older man took mutter of breaths, and before enunciating his question. "Tell me, what are Ashwinder eggs used for?"

"Love potions and heals ague."

Ague. It was the one illness that Madam Pomfrey had deemed her to be affected by — it was obscurely a side effect to what she had done. Nonetheless, Pomfrey had sought a 'cure.'

"Correct," he pivoted himself hastily, turning to the front walls of the room.

Flora curved her body to face the woman, however, utterly relieved to find no one sitting next to her. The ghostly features had scattered transparency into the air — remaining the girl to sweep her thoughts to dust.

Vague hums mocked her eardrums, buzzes clogged the halls of her brain and specks of black visioned her eyesight — fuzzy buzzes within the whites.

Tricking death was a fucking mistake. A big one.

The woman, Hunter and the little boy that had appeared to her were twisted hallucinations of tormented perception. At least, that was what she had believed.

But why did she still have the impulse to keep practising Necromancy to communicate with her father?

Stupid Ravenclaw girl.

"Maybe I'm not supposed to be in Ravenclaw.." she whispered, earning her friend's attention to divert towards her.

"What are you talking about? You answered Snape's question without paying attention, and I've been searching for the answer in this stupid book." Ziva followed the slithering trail of her finger against the skin of the page.

"Page 111."

Ziva listened to the girl, flicking past the sequences of pages, flopping against each other as she halted to a particular page. "Ohh—but, how did you know? Your book hasn't been opened yet."

"Huh? Oh umm... lucky guess?"

"I had a really fun time at your place, and your sister is really scary with all her snakes but she seems nice." Ziva swiftly balanced her sight to and from Professor Snape, hoping to not get caught by him as they chatted.

"She's starting school later this year and I'm kind of praying for this school." Flora rolled the lustred glosses of her eyes to a sudden blink.

"Why's that?"

"Because she's way worse than me."

Odelia had taught both Melia and Flora self-defence and copious ways to fight — without the use of a wand. And however, Eros was keener to learn with magic and wands rather than doing something without magic.

Flora had fractured her brother's hand when she had thrown a knife to his palm and shattering the splinters of his bones. It was an accident of course, but that was when her father had told her that she would do great in Slytherin.

She was a deathly mixture of both houses.

Flora sat to her seat, hovering her eyes over the inking texts of each extract from different pages of the textbook. She moved her sight further down the page, syncing her slight, quivering breaths with the moving waves of her eyes.

There was a diminutive inconsistency with the temperature. Her body chilled out the numbs of her limbs — splitting up an inconvenience to her already trembling state.

Perhaps she needed to be admitted to St Mungo's for a check or an evaluation, however, telling how she had gotten into this mess wasn't going to spit out easily.

The ringing chimes of the halls had concluded the lesson, bringing the teaching to a close as students bore their books to their clutches. Clacking their soles of the leathers of their shoes against the rigidity of the stone flooring.

Flora sat to a glue on her seat — barely budging against Ziva's delicate taps of her fingers, and shaking her eyes as she looked up. "Wait, is class over?"

"Yeah, just then. Are you coming?"

"In a second. I have to ask Professor Snape something," she smiled, softening the tensity of her body.

"Okay, I'll probably be either in the common room or the library." Ziva laced her fingers to a brush against her shoulders and sauntered from the classroom — clear out of view of the doorway.

Flora noticed the Potions teacher swirling the flaps of the hems of his robes, and grasping the scrunched edges of scattered parchment papers within the loose pages of the books. "Professor, may I ask you something?"

He heaved a stern sigh, waving the annoyance across his monotonous features. "What is it now?"

"Would there be a possible antidote for... uhh— throwing up black substance?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Let's just say— hypothetically, that someone had almost encountered a demon and is now throwing up a whole graveyard... if that makes sense?" her fingers tapped a fidget against the boned stretches of each other.

"Miss Cates, I'm not here to listen about your absurdity of a story. If you are trying to scare me— it's not working. Now, if you excuse me, I have to be somewhere." Snape pushed past, waving his robe to a stretch as he stormed the echoes with the heaviness of his shoes.  
  


━━━━━━━━━━  
  
  


The corridors of the castle had been infested with the Hogwarts ghosts — floating a trail of chills throughout their phantom state. And through the bodies of students, sending them into spirals of sudden exposure to an arctic freeze.

But, she had never seen the woman from earlier. She was an intrusive stranger in the school, and it was confusing to an extended concern.

The hallways were damped by the trickles of water, seeping through the stoned cracks of the walls from the rainfall. Sizzling to the warmth of the golden lit surface of the walls by the burns of candlelights.

Flora composed herself against the tedious bodies of walls, travelling to the turns of the hallway, however, halting her feet to a sudden stop. Her arm clutched to a tight hold of a book she was about to return to the library.

Long dark strands flowed behind the elegance of the figure's steps — her dress ripped to a shred, had barely flourished the floors with its bare strips of fabric. It was the same woman from earlier, her footsteps tagged behind the winding cloth.

The girl ventured a stride behind the ghostly woman, eyeing her steps as she pushed herself to enter an emptied room. Where the woman had placed her body in front of the arched window, moonlight had approached a lustre throughout the room.

"Fleurine?"

"Umm no... my name isn't Fleurine, it's Florina or Fleurina as some people call me. But, why haven't I seen you before?" Flora spoke, her soles stiff to the concrete. "Are you a new Hogwarts ghost?"

"I am not a ghost," she turned to face the girl, her eyes still lost from the sockets.

The girl angled her skull, moving her sight to view the woman's faint outlines of transparency. "Are you sure?..."

"I am a mere projection, only seen by you. I can locate myself to anyone with the intentions of my eyes. I am not a ghost because I am not dead."

"I'm a little confused but if you don't mind—uhh— what happened to your eyes?" her index pointed to the missing eyeballs.

"They were stolen. Ripped from underneath by a forbidden lover," she muttered.

"Oh—uh, I'm sorry? That sounds terrible... but why are you telling me this?"

"Because—" the woman held her hand to her face, feeling herself shudder tremendously. "My magic isn't strong enough right now. I-I have to go back."

Flora stood herself from the ridden disappearance of the woman, battering a blink within her eyelashes — transferring each bat to the thought of her brain. She wasn't able to apprehend the strange interaction.

Words couldn't form a pinned sentence, her mouth was stuck to a slight opening as she tried to sway her thoughts from escaping. She shrugged the chill, staring longingly at the thickness of the book in her grasp, and before slipping away from the room.

More questions intruded her thoughts.

_'Who is Fleurine? And how could that deranged lady see without her eyes?'_

The library doors approached, sending her to a serene temperature as she pushed the splintered surface of the doors to an opening. The scents infused of dusted rows of wood and wrinkled parchments taped inside olden books had scattered around the library. And swelling the mustered books with heaving stacks of more books.

She remained herself to a close aisle near the restricted section, following the rows of shelves until she had reached a table with no disturbances.

Setting herself down onto the chair, she flicked through a particular book of protection spells — stopping her search as she peered down the page. The page contained spills of information, ranging between different kinds of protections and—

"A Boggart room protection spell?"

_The spell was designed to scare away trespassers from entering secret and forbidden rooms. A clear outline of red will emit through the cracks of the door frame when a target has approached a near radius of the room._

_If opened, the room will produce a darkened atmosphere and creating a Boggart-like terror, created to what the target fears the most. However, success will come to the passer after enduring the spell for a few minutes._

"Ohh..."

"Ahem," a soft voice tingled her ears, harmonising with the faint realisation of what she had read. "Excuse me?"

"Hello?" Flora questioned.

"You're Eros' sister right?" a random sixth year Gryffindor girl stood closer, her eyes lit to a smile.

"Yes.."

"Wow, I just want to say that he is the hotter sibling," she muttered, shuffling a nearby chair to the table, and sitting against the wooden backrest.

"Okay? And that's probably because you fancy him and— let me guess, you want me to set you up with him?"

After he had dated a Ravenclaw girl named Calliope, he wasn't exact with finding another girlfriend or anyone who fancied him. There were numerous of girls fawning over her brother, and every time one would talk about his body to the girl — she would feel uncomfortable to an extent that she could sense her throat swell up with vomit.

She also wasn't keen on impersonating Cupid with the many times they would ask her to set them up with him.

It was really fucking annoying.

"Yes! Wait, will you do that?" The girl sprung her body in interest, the creases near her eyes had wrinkled to a joyous grin.

"No."

"W-wait what? Why not?"

Flora breathed a few streaks of air within her warm sighs. "Because, I have a name and if you wanted to date my brother, then you should've been a little considerate to know my name. My name isn't 'Eros' sister,' I am my own person."

"Whatever," she forced herself from the chair.

"Okay, goodbye random girl."

"Wait. You don't even know my name." The Gryffindor whipped her head to face the sly smiles of the girl.

"I know. Now you know how I feel, love."

The Gryffindor girl stormed her eyes to a roll, clutching her arms to the surface of her chest and heaved her feet against the carpeted floors. Disturbing the only sanity she had, barely settled in the library.

Her fingers dragged across the flesh of the covers, sliding each book to a scatter, and ascending her eyes to the titles of the books. It was a bare second sight to a certain book that she had borrowed earlier when she had noticed something wrong about it. But she couldn't point out what was different.

The snake textured book had looked the same, with its scaling surface of an iridescence shimmer of green and bronzing gold.

"Thaarag," she read the title, hearing her thoughts contemplating with the word. Her sight descended to the edge of the cover, reading another line of unfamiliar words. "And the Pythoness?"

She dove deep into the book, rummaging through the contents of mythology and weirded stories of snakes. Reptiles were excessively worshipped within the walls of the olden stained pages, details of snakes emerged from underneath each layer of the parchments.

_Snakes. Reptiles._

"Oh my god. The book was called Ancient Reptilian Curses— but why has it changed?" she picked the book, judging each side of her investigated eyes. "Does this book change titles or something?"

Madam Pince strode past the table she had been sitting at, earning a pass of stern expressions of discomfort.

"Madame Pince," she uttered.

"Yes?"

"I think I borrowed the wrong book." Flora extended her arm to let the older woman examine the book for herself. "I should've borrowed a book called Ancient Reptilian Curses?"

"There is no book here about reptilian curses."

"W-what? No, this book was called that and I remember it being titled that." Her thoughts argued against her deceiving vision— stating to believe herself that she was correct.

"No, it's always been titled 'Thaarag.'" Madam Pince sought an expression of a severe, wondering glance. Confused as to what the younger girl was muttering about, she offered her help. "Do you want me to look for a book that is similar to what you thought you had borrowed?"

"It's okay, I'll stick with this one."

"Alright." The librarian nodded, carefully slipping away and out of the lone aisle of shelves.

Flora studied the book once more, tending to a careful approach as she followed her finger trail against the touches of the golden iridescence.

"Thaarag," she repeated once more, tapping a rhythm of cluttering quivers of her fingers to the smoothness of the pages. Flora flicked through more of the contents, she had no idea what the title meant and how it would correlate with the rest of the chapters of the book.

She had gotten to a page where a continuous line of thickened black had inked its way through the free spaces of the chapter, and forming the ink with the words to create a page filled with black ink smudged everywhere.

"What the hell?"

The page had been marked with ink to hide the content away from whoever would read the book. But, that wasn't the worst thing about the page being filled with blackened words — the title of the page was called 'Thaarag.'

"What the fuck is a Thaarag?" her desperate approach to each page would lead her to a separate section for something called a Pythoness.

_A Pythoness was a woman believed to be possessed by a foreseeing spirit that would allow her to see into the future and gain insight within her eyes. However, a Pythoness was able to make prophecies with the magic of Divination and curse upon those who had deemed her prophecies to be lies._

Flora kept her eyes pinned to the paper, interested in what Divination would do with the book. Although, Necromancy was on a similar side to Divination and the insights into pieces of knowledge of the future and such.

It was obscure to think of the trail her mind took to get from an innocent start of the school year to deep magical shit — dark magic to be exact. 


	22. 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄

**THE TANTALISING AFFECTIONS OF** students to another were unbearable to approach. Cuddled up within the warming embraces of each other's lips, couples were vividly imprinted into everyone's eyes— they were everywhere.

Spoilt blushes of pale amaranths and scarlet florals were envied amongst students who hadn't had a date with anyone else. They were desirable to be obtained — merely a considerable gesture of love, and sprinkled dust of showering compliments.

Flora brushed her skin past snogging couples, who were locked against the walls. She tried to squeeze herself through the slightest cracks between the pair and the wall of a narrowed hallway, but they wouldn't budge. Umbridge wasn't there to correct them to the rules she had enforced on the school, so it was aggravating to push past.

She had barely slimmed herself through the spaces before eyeing them to a close view. "Fucking Hell! Why don't you have sex in the halls while you're at it," she blasted.

"Woah, someone's annoyed." Ziva stepped from a strict turn, glancing back at the oblivious pair in the halls. "Don't give them any ideas."

"Call me the anti-Cupid," she mocked, slipping the tone to a humorous gesture. "The Scrooge of Valentines Day."

"I have no idea what that is."

"Charles Dickens? The Prose Fiction of 'A Christmas Carol?'" Flora glanced at her friend, waiting for her response but instead, Ziva had shaken her head. "No? Do they teach about Muggle Literature here?"

"I haven't read that one but we read about some guy named Shakespeare if that counts?" her voice tinged a warm octave of a sweet chime.

Her head waved to a sheer nod, synchronised with the certain lifts of the corners of her mouth. She touched the fleshes of her arms for a brief moment, swarmed with the safe embraces from the faded sickness. The mysterious illness had only pained the girl for what had only lasted for a few weeks.

Her body healed her system and had repaired her chest from the closing pains of rotten tissues, swished in the warmth of her heaving blood. Days went on, and as if she had never had been approached by the deathly symptoms.

It was odd to feel the spring of death suddenly been extracted from the depths of her stomach, but it was a relieving pain that had been defeated — _almost._

The two Ravenclaw girls shifted to an echo within the hallways of the west corridors, the outsoles of their shoes had dragged a scuff to the lone flooring. The stairs to the Ravenclaw tower had revealed itself from the ends of the stuffed stones that formed a wall. A tedious venture to the stepping stones of the spiralling cases of stairs had damaged the works of their legs.

It was tiresome, to say the least.

"I swear if the knocker says a Valentines themed riddle... I'm going to pretend that the wooden door attached to the knocker, wants to be burned down." Ziva stretched her fingers towards the eagle knocker, wrapping them to a curve as she pushed the bronze to an awakening.

" _Beneath the hidden beauty, it seeks comfort from the facade that laid upon the repugnance of faces. But, it is also a guise to the high sensitive shrieks from a starting silence and the bleeding octaves of an oeuvre._

"For fucks sake, you evil door knocker." Ziva held her glaze on the handle, choked up in her jumbled thoughts— hard thumps of her brain began to tense. "It's too early for me to do this right now. Do you know what it is?" she curved her head to the girl.

"Uhm—uhh—" Flora tied her mind to the thoughts of her eyes, deeply preparing a variety of answers. "A mask? However, it is solely a metaphorical translation to 'The Phantom of The Opera' and the acceptance to society."

The mask that had been portrayed in the novel of 'Le Fantôme de l'Opéra' was a modern masked presence of how her brother would lie about his blood status to be accepted by the society of Pure-Bloods and Slytherins.

" _Correct."_ The door swung to an opening angle.

"That answer was a whole essay," Ziva said, referring to the cleverly witted answer. "I thought of a veil... so that was pretty close to a mask."

Their dormitory radiated streaks of subtle golden expressions through the fine fibres of the curtains, sided to the nooks of the windowsill. It was a serene ambience to the mixture of cool tones in the heavenly affiliated room.

Flora's torso stung within the fleshes of her body, tingling several worrying numbs across her slashed scars. The scars that she had maliciously received from when she was younger— however, there was no recollection of how she would have gained it.

Her fingers laced underneath the hem of her shirt, lifting it vigorously as more pain struck the scars. Her voice was barely audible as she clenched her mouth shut and her face figured a vision of discomforting expressions.

The antique mirror paled against the bronzed vibrancy of the decorative walls, standing the curved support of the mirror to the floor. Her fingers traced the faint, red puffs of the wounded flesh, brushing the tickling sensitivity with ease. Glaring at the skin, she counted the distinct slashes — three were marked and scarred across her torso and ribs.

"Woah." Ziva noticed the wounds, stepping close as she stared in the mirror. "Those resemble so much like scratches from a werewolf... are you—"

"Absolutely not. I've had these for around ten years and nothing has ever happened to me—but I can't remember how I got them."

A quiver of the door handle rattled to an opening, and forces pushed the wooden door deeper into the silence of the room. Blaise Zabini stood in the opening cracks of the doorway, widely grazing his eyes over Flora's back beneath the laces of her bra.

"I—uhh—" he stuttered, forcing his eyes from the girl, and respectively covering her body with the width of his palm. "Fuck, I should've knocked. I'm sorry."

"Blaise, you idiot!" Ziva earned his attention, diverting from her friend as she covered herself through the comfort of her shirt. "Why didn't you knock? Also, how did you get in the Ravenclaw common room?"

"I saw Padma in the halls and asked her if she could answer the riddle. It took a lot of convincing," he shrugged, moving his sight to a covered Flora. "How did you get those scars... if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't know how, why or when."

"Those look like..." he waved a flicker of silence as he paused to glance at his sister, who was shaking a subtle expression of her head. "Are you a werewolf? I mean, those do look like scratches and usually when a werewolf wound you—you turn into one... right?"

"I've never encountered one before so I doubt it and I think it was a bite during a full moon that would turn someone to one," she recalled, not definitive to what she had ever researched before. "I've never been bitten by one... so I think it's safe to say that I'm definitely not a werewolf. Good conspiracy theory though."

"Blaise, why are you here?" Ziva asked, her brows sustained upon a high arch.

Blaise propped his arm to rest against the rustic edges of the doorframe. His eyes vague and his head cleared from what he had originally planned to get from his sister. "Uhm... I forgot. Wait, I'm thinking."

Flora hadn't noticed it, but there was an isolated envelope tucked underneath her bed. It was elegant in grace and exquisite in the lettering textures — it radiated warmth, but it looked too perfect. Not a wrinkle of creases nor a reckless scrunch in sight, it was placed in harmony.

Except, she hadn't seen the letter before or collected her mail yet.

The prints of her fingers had brushed amongst the delicate surface, clearing the envelope from speckles of dust. However, as she peered closer, her eyes met with the unusual bumped shape to the centre of the envelope.

_Perhaps a gift inside_ _._

_But from who?_

Her jaw stuck to a reading gesture, grazing the harmoniously curved arches of the letters, and reciting the note within her eyes — merely wanting to take her eyes away. French terminology sprung from the depths of sophistication in the letter and persuaded her to share with Ziva.

"Zee, could you give me your Potions essay? I'm not going to copy it... only take a few words from it and put it into mine..." Blaise insisted, his persuasive tone had almost been approached for rejection.

"Give me a better reason as to why I should give you one of my Potions essays?"

"I—one of? How many did you write?" he questioned, hovering his palm over the curved corners of his mouth.

"Two. Each with different ideas and topics," Ziva concluded, her eyes grinning within the creases of her skin. "I'll look for it."

"Fuck, you're a nutter if you did two. That's like... five pages each?"

Flora touched the delicacy of the parchment, leaving the unknown gift in the envelope— hadn't looked at the gift, she wanted to share the letter with her friend. "Listen to this," she muttered. "Ma chérie, when you receive this, it will probably be Valentines Day. I want you to know that I love you... even from the bottom of the trenches— I have also attached a gift. Please open it, I promise you it will be jaw-dropping."

"Okay wait, now I want to see the gift—"

"Zee, are you getting your essay or what?" Blaise leaned his body against the wall, waving his eyes to view what the girls were talking about."

"Yeah, wait for a second!"

Flora flicked the envelope opening, lifting the surface with ease and clutching to the wrapped object. Her face stern with concentration as she fiddled with the wrapping— struggling immensely to break the rough tapes that had to bind it to the body of the object.

Rotting fermentation forced itself from the object and swept into the nostrils of the trio. And as she threw it to a brisk jolt against the floor, her body heaved with the breathing inhales of fear.

"What the fuck!" Ziva hurried her steps from the rotted object, covering her mouth with the motions of gagging. "Why the fuck is that in there?!"

"I-I don't know—"

The exposed object was a severed finger — a bony mush of decomposing hints of moulding green within the dark hues of the olden state. The rim of the finger was bruised from a torn, ripped from the hand of the victim.

However, it was wrapped with the curves of a ring, a decorative piece of silver and a gemstone of crystallising royal blues of Sapphire. The jewellery fainted a familiarity with her— not exact of where she had seen it before.

"Who sent the letter?" Ziva worried a glance, conveying expressions of a sickly feeling.

"A psychopath is who would send it." Blaise tilted his head, angling himself to the frail limb of the decomposed finger. His eyes peered close in view, examining the intrusive object.

Flora reviewed the note, descending her sight to the bottom of the letter. Her eyes squinted within her batting eyelashes, hurrying her head to make out what the characters were from the outlines of the ink. "It doesn't say who, but there's an initial. H.L?"

"H.L... I don't know anyone with those initials."

"Well, at least you have a pretty ring?" Blaise softened the eerie tension, uncertainty as he gazed to his sister. "Or not..."

A pretty ring.

_"A pretty ring for me? I guess this just adds to my charm huh?" Hunter admired the wraps of the silver, plated within the Sapphires of jubilant in the curves._

_"A token gesture of virtue," she whispered, calming her eyes in the warmth of his hands. "Virtues of ambition and justice."_

_"Ambitious and justice? I think this ring did justice to my charisma," he boasted, priding his appearance as he lifted a smile._

_"Let's just hope it lasts long."_

_H.L._

_Hunter Laurent._

"Oh my god!" she startled the two Zabini siblings, untangling her legs from the bed frame and stepped to the rotting finger. Her fingers picked it from underneath, the acidic spoiled stench seeped through the cracks of her nose. "This ring was the ring I gave to my ex-boyfriend."

"So your ex-boyfriend is a psychopath who chopped a finger up? Got it," he sharped his tone, nodding his head to the clicks of his fingertips.

"I would've believed it—if he wasn't two metres in the ground."

Both Blaise and Ziva had returned their heads to the girl, waved the focus of their eyes to project to her face. "What? Then what kind of sick freak would send that?"

"Not sure."

  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  


Talks of a Valentines Day party flooded the lone halls, giggling echoes raced through the cracks of the doorways. However, her attendance for the detention was needed that night and rather than going to the party, she followed the stoned walkways of the corridors.

Her mind horrified by the past few months, she hadn't been approached by dark forces until recently. Dark Magic was real, but how real was the temptation to attempt more?

The girl had meant no harm to the spell, but only a brief moment to see her father again. She had wondered if she had perhaps combined two realms together.

If that was possible, but even within the Wizarding World, it was close to absurdity.

The miniature lines across her fingers had slid to a scrape in the dips against the fissures within the ragged surface of the walls. She wandered her steps, marking the dirt from the outsoles of her shoes and squished it into the slips of the stone.

Draco had requested Umbridge to give her another detention, and after her brother had gotten her out of the first detention. His smug devotion to the morals of Umbridge's leadership had disowned the sanity of his mind — if he had one.

Flora noticed him in the older corridors, dragging his body to lean against the rigidity of the walls, and all while he twirled the wood of his wand — unbothered to his surroundings.

"Fuck, finally! What the fuck took you so long?" he shrugged his shoulders off the wall, scraping himself from the edge. "I want to get this over with so start moving your legs and keep the fuck up."

"Why are you in a hurry? Missing the Valentines party?"

Draco gave a deep scoff, his head shook in annoyance. "Valentines Day is for losers and cunts. Don't speak to me about that sappy shit." The boy's legs pushed to a further pace, hurried from the girl as she kept herself up behind him.

"Don't you ever get tired listening to yourself? I mean... you're boring." Flora insisted on the question, her sight flickered within the bats of her eyelids.

"Do you ever shut up? If you don't shut up, I'm going to jam my wand down your throat."

The trail behind the pair darkened from the movements of the lantern in his tight grasp, his hands pale in shade and flushes of red in the creases of his palm. And silence quickened over the lost words.

The girl forced her eyes to glance to his irritated expression, painted the fleshes with an imperial red of colour.

"I think your daddy can do the honours."

Bold to say that she hadn't seen what his father looked like. She had mostly spent her life in France, and encompassed with the papers of the French Ministry. Flora assumed that he was just as hubristic as Draco was.

His legs halted to a sudden shock, his head waving to view her, and face furrowed a deep vision of anger. "What did you just say to me?" he spat, stepping closer to her as he dragged his feet. "I don't appreciate whores making sexual jokes about my father."

"Who said I wanted to fuck your dad? Actua—"

Draco pointed his wand to her throat, backing her body to a tight position on the wall. The secluded corridors were emptied of students. "Listen here, I won't hesitate to curse you right now!" his wand travelled upwards of her hair, sliding against the temple of her head.

However, quick to his movements, she grazed her fingers over the handle of her hidden knife and held it to his throat. "And I won't hesitate to cut your throat open." Her pupils paid attentive detail to the swallows of his throat, hovering it back to his eyes. "Hmph, scared?"

"You evil bitch," he whispered, gritting to the clenching of his teeth and before pushing her hand away from him. "Threatening a Prefect with a weapon? That's going to cost you an expulsion."

"Only a snitch would get someone expelled." Her shoulders pushed past the fabrics of his body, ceasing her walk and turning to face him. "And snitches are bitches, so can we hurry this detention now? I'm getting bored being with you."

The pale blondes of his hair shone within the canary hints, and an isolated strand curled down to his forehead. His pupils pierced a small ring to hers, straightening the balance of his black attire and easily brushed her shoulders as she had done before. Heavily treating the floors as mere nothingness as he thudded his shoes, guiding in front of the girl.

Flora scouted the sharpened turns of the halls, skimming across the speckled floors of old dust and hearing the imperceptible crackles of the lanterns. A gentle tug of her shirt had hauled her body into an abandoned room, tight hands to her wand before noticing who had pulled her.

"Adrian?!"

His head drove close to hers, trailing the scrapes of his lips against the tenderness of her skin, and moving the sucks to her neck. "God, I missed doing this to you."

Infectious butterflies sprung their wings with brushed motions to the walls of her stomach. Fluttering flaps infiltrated the pitting wounds of her rotting heart — bothered by the sensation as she pushed him away. "What happened to hating me for almost killing you?"

"How can I hate you?"

"You made it pretty clear to me in my house," she repulsed, half-heartedly.

His nods synced with the wanders of his eyes, clutching to a piercing tone. "But I obviously didn't mean it—and, I fucking want you. Like now."

"Look who's horny, and this time it isn't me? _Shocker_."

"Call me that if you will but I love the thrill of sneaking around behind your brother's back and almost getting caught." He slid the brims of his lingering lips, fulfilling it against her ear, "and I know you love it too."

The girl singled a finger to his chin, swirling her index to his jaw and lifting it to meet the lining of her mouth. With no dithering, she crossed paths with his lips, fervently pacing herself to the rhythmics of his pushing tongue.

The stumbling beats of her heart began to pulse an adrenaline flow, hovers within her limbs and tingling a sensation. However, the dying masses of the chiming ting had revolved, organising a pitting familiarity of before — the thundering headaches of bleeding thoughts.

Those thoughts of blood. Gore.

She urged to maintain the gagging movements of her throat. The reliving mares of her experiences had triggered an acidic attack to the back of her throat. And her mind contented a fill with the eeriest memories; drinking the raw remaining bloods of a pig, being gifted a severed, decomposed finger, slashes to her body by an unknown boy, the woman with no eyes, and her dead boyfriend.

More to come, more to be unlocked.

Adrian terminated his touches to her, tilting his head to a close view of her whole face. "Are you oka—"

"I did something bad," she muttered, her eyes waggled around the classroom. "Actually, I did more than one bad thing."

"What did you do?"

Exhaling breaths struggled to escape, mumbles paused in the brim of her inner mouth and clashing against her teeth. "Ever since we got back from the holidays, I've been experiencing odd things— supernatural occurrences." Flora pained a source of flickers in her eyelids, "I accidentally summoned a demon of some sort and now I think I've opened a gateway between two worlds. I see spirits roaming, but not the friendly kind—malicious auras."

The older boy waved a tight transition towards an austere illustrated look, his stares drifted into circulation, and before breaking his seriousness into wheezing chuckles. "Are you okay? I mean... it's not Halloween yet and you are already making up scary stories? That's commitment right there."

"Wait, what?"

"Demons and a gateway to another world? That's crazy, you're gonna have to give me whatever you are on," he sought a lifted cheek into a grin.

"I wasn't joking."

Her face tortured by the subtle winds of the air, however, the windows had been held to a lock. Senses activated to the pair of watchful auras, she swept her vision over Adrian's shoulders, and eyes pierced a deep squint.

Hunter's deathly frame installed to the corner of the room, and his ghostly flesh contrasted with the shadows of projecting darkness. His head hunched, angling it to fit the sight line of her eyes, and grinning to a malicious expression.

The dead boy introduced his hands, holding it up to allow her to force a glance at his hands. His right set of fingers had been attached to the threaded flesh— except one, a missing finger. The index finger had been torn apart from his hands. It was the finger that hosted the ring that she gave him, twenty moons ago.

And phantom blood pressured out of the severed wound, grains of bone and flappy tissues pooled within the garnet flows.

Flora's throat evaporated of saliva, coughing a choke as she held her stares to the boy and distracting Adrian. "There," she pointed the extending finger to him. "Do you see him?"

"Him?" Adrian tracked her grazes, impelling his head to face the behind. "What are you looking at? There's nothing there." He counted the seconds before turning back to the girl, "are you okay?"

' _Are you okay?'_

His words conversed, filling the voids of her mind.

_'Are you okay?'_

Repeated. The slowing echoes repeated through her head, and clutched to a brief stick against the surface of her brain — almost tangible.

She had regained the paces of the present moment, collecting herself as she forced her eyes to glance at Hunter. However, the soft glows of the dark had stayed silent as he was nowhere to be found. "I'm fine. I guess it was just all in my head."

"You should go to bed."

The girl compelled a nod to the voices of his behest, hefting her body to the closes of the door and allowing herself to twist the knob. "Oh, and I know what I saw. No matter if it was in my head or not— I truly do see these spirits, and I know it." The outlines of her frame swallowed within the bodies of striking darkness as she left him in the classroom. 


	23. 𝐙𝐈𝐕𝐀

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> italics = flashbacks.
> 
> TW | Homophobia and mentions of suicide.

**ZIVA ZABINI** **ﾐ** **·** ⋆  
  
  


**_A REPUGNANCE VARIED HER_ ** _posted expressions_ **_._ ** _The young girl dug her head to a hunch, steadying her mumbling breaths as her fingers riveted to the handle._

_"Dig, Ziva," her mother's jarring tone instructed the young girl._

_The staunched silvered tinges of the blue streaks of the moonlight had projected to the dirt. Rough grains of mire powdered the Earth's ground from being dug up._

_Ziva shadowed her head from the springs of light, sliding the damp glosses of her eyes around the ground. "Mummy, what are we digging up?" she steered a subtle view to her mother's body, descending towards a limp figure wrapped in sheets._

_She couldn't quite understand what the hefty unknown was, nor why she had to help her mother dig the pitted underground._

_"Don't ask questions, okay? Just please dig." Ms Zabini had stricken her body to stable herself as she pushed the scrapes of the metal from the shovel against the dirt. "Magic is too risky to get this done by myself."_

_The young girl had approached her mother only hours before. The older woman had dragged the sheets across the floor, and before being caught by her daughter._

_Blaise was in a heaving sleep, unnoticed to the surrounding, and counting stars within his conscious. She adored her twin brother, and as did he. A pity that they were in separate houses._

_The numbers; five and eleven were held within the engraving states of a single stone. It plastered amongst the powdered dust of earthly bodies of soils. Her eyes waved a shift around the Earth, still gripped to the shovel, and her fingers distributed a range of pale creases._

_Ziva fell uneasy, disturbance had distracted her worrying task. Mind blanks had traffic a clogged line to clutter up in her brain, slowly processing her time. "Is that him?" she held the tine of the shovel to bury within a centimetre in the soil._

_"What?" her mother swallowed thin strings of her saliva._

_The young girl extended her index to the limp within the sheets. "Is that the man who comes over to visit you?"_

_"Why would you say that, sweetheart?"_

_"You killed him didn't you? What happened to the previous men?" Ziva asked, her feet stoned to the ground._

_Ms Zabini tucked her finger beneath the fleshes of her jaw, clutching her knees to settle her body within the same height as her daughter. "He did it to himself. It's okay, you can go to bed now. I'll take care of this."_

_The woman's intricate words had impelled the young girl to follow the gravelled paths towards the home._

_Love was elusive. Her mother's relationships had ruined the idealisation of golden statics of love. It was unavoidable to be prone to the aching breaks without the gushes of blood, and cramped beats of the heart._

_Love was dead. Always was._

_But, she'd still been a hopeless romantic. Always will._   
  


Ziva's swirling wanders of her eyes had paced to the present status, dampening the cracking linear puffs of flesh from her lip with the curves of her tongue. She reflected the thickly outlines of her memories within the caves of her mind.

Faint, winding streaks of her sighs had masked the lucid intent of uncovering the strict mind blockages. Her reminisced memories had only briefed certain pins on each aspect — somewhere tedious and unfortunate experiences.

The girl stored her body to the velvety skin of the cushion, the cushion that connected a deal on top of the expanded windowsill. Her feet adjacent to the pales of the wooden support, lining the spiking tickles against the tenderness of her bare soles. She hummed a notable classic, pivoting the rhythmic tone of her mouth to trail with her head.

Intended crystalline gleams of the moon had shone a speckle of light through the window mosaics. Deep shadows waved a wash to stammer against the walls.

It was _serene_. That was it.

She was alone in the early dawns of the morning, cradling the loneliness of her legs underneath the frigid spines of a book she'd been noticing.

The girl longed for a caress of gentle warmth, and comfort of tenderly meeting glances with a hopeful significant other. Her right fingers scraped a brush against her skin — starved from the generous auras of a girl.

Ziva composed the meditative structures of her coils to a brush from her face. The strands blew to a gusting, harsh tone — waving stringy curls to a flit. And while her eyes focused on the literature markings of a novel, ' _Maurice.'_

"He had always liked his friend's laugh," her whispers echoed a sweet trail. Distant sugary scents swept a sweetened haven within the damped walls of her mouth.  
  


_The Spring months of nineteen ninety-five were sombre in the pits of voided skies. Dull to say, it wasn't her favourite in that year._

_The fifth of April, the day she had turned sixteen. Ziva shocked an embrace of elation throughout the systems of her limbs, tipping the corners of her mouth to rise._

_Ecstatic._

_The halls were dried out by the absence of students, pale flesh of the sheer moonlight had scattered through the cracks of the panes. She wandered the long winds of the dim darkness, passing flickers of golden tinges that had been plastered over isolated stones._

_Calm fingering stabs to her back had left her body to a jolt, however, elated to see her gingerly friend, Eulalie Dagon._

_"Merlin, you scared me!" Ziva kept a serious hushed voice to a minimum._

_The ginger girl gave a breath of cautious laughs, wrapping her arm around Ziva as she paced her body to the harmonies of her steps. "I'm sorry, Zivy."_

_She had always liked her friend's laugh._

_Slipping out a smile, Ziva proposed an opening idea, "do you want to go up to the Astronomy Tower?" The creased opening of her lids had squished together, targeting her view to appear to the ginger girl's eyes._

_"Sure," Eulalie shrugged._

_She didn't intend to, but she fancied her. The blossoming springs of her strawberry blonde waves had enticed an ocean of love, love that not even the Titanic could prepare for the break of her heart._

_Mistreated even._

_It was an odd to elude from the prophetic certainty of rejection. She didn't mind. At least not yet, she followed the ginger with easing enthusiasm, and the tantalising marks had yet to dent a puncture to the heart._

_The Astronomy Tower caved within the curving spirals of the stairway walls, alluring both girls to skip their soles to a racing beat. The prickling numbs of their feet had spiked up their leg, waving statically from the meet with the brisk narrows of stone._

_Ziva's bodily frame spiralled from a pivot, resting to a conclusion as she pushed herself to the galactic views of the stars. "Wow," she mumbled, softly inhaling the heavens of astronomy._

_"Isn't it wonderful?" Sweet tones of charisma filled the emptied spirits of the tower._

_Her skull compelled a willing of nods, shifting her eye line into each lustred detail within the glowed speckles of void dust. Rocks were just as primitive as earth's dirtied skin, but the proximity of each starling rock in the outskirts of the Earth had urged a gravitational pull._

_Attracting each other, just as meteors heaved a pierce through the Earth, and shattering damage to the protective layer._

_Just this once, she'd never thought as being the Earth in that situation._

_Dazes escaped from their expressions, clouded mists had seeped through their minds—all she could do was generate energy for the powers to support her still body. Mind blank, quavers of her thoughts began to sweeten a settle — she was immersed in the projections of the galactic panorama._

_Cleansed from winding problems as she stared her soul into the starry realm. It wasn't real. Life didn't feel real, she was caught in the rendezvous moment that it had taken a split pause to analyse everything in that scene._

_The way that Eulalie's side profile had lifted a speck of transparent gold glints in her eyes and how the fines of her ginger strands were perched against her back. Ziva watched her friend stare longingly up at the Universe, counting the infinite seconds within the stars._

_Their bodies both sat upright, lazily tilting themselves to comfort the supports of the arms as they wandered their eyes some more._

_"How does it feel to be sixteen?" Eulalie engaged._

_"You know—it doesn't feel that different. I don't know, I guess—sweet in a way?"_

_"Sweet sixteen," she compiled a variation of nods and smiles. Brief pauses escalated, and sighs protruded, "I can't wait to graduate, only two more years and it feels like a never-ending cycle."_

_"Yep..." Ziva clutched the fabrics of her skirt to her body, wrapping the extensions of her arm around her legs._

_"But the one thing I would really love to get away from is the constant judging looks when I put my uniform on. I mean it's hard being in Slytherin already when you're ginger but getting categorised as mean... it's annoying. I'm not mean—am I?"_

_"Who on God's name would label you as mean?" she assured._

_"Gryffindors."_

_Winds danced a hurricane around the girls, ghostly silence had been ripped apart from the echoing howls of the breeze. Serenity was perhaps just as limited as life was._

_Dews had sprinkled water into her inhales, masked in the brisk winds as it drowned her nostrils with strong gusts. Rain trickled a leak from the dusk atmosphere and waved the chilly flows as it merged with the curved breezes._

_Dead silence was caught in the war against the storm and the dried surface of the tower. Water had bled through the cracks of the stoned body, ushering a severe rush to overtake._

_Ziva shivered the pain of her numbs, stiffening her body as she pushed the hardened limbs to an exercise of stretches. "I hate when you're comfortable and then painful, cold numbs strike your limbs as a target."_

_"Tell me about it..."_

_The girl observed the ginger's still features, wanting to examine the flows of her pivoting pupils. She looked at her in secrecy, making sure that she wasn't looking when she did. "Lulu, I have something to tell you."_

_Eulalie worried a series of concerned faces, "what is it?"_

_For a new moment, a mere second sight and she had backed her way from the depths of her chest. "Uhh... nothing." Perhaps it just wasn't the right attempt at that time._

_"Okay then?" she continued her starry eyes to the reflections of lines of golden streaks within each star._

_Ziva sensed the imaginations of her soul wanting to face plant against her skin. She maintained the bulged urges to throw her palm to her face, but discreet enough that it would've been oblivious to her friend._

_Feelings. Romantic, platonic—it didn't matter, she fell hard for her feelings. Loved easily, and especially with her friend, wanting the idea of fairytale love._

_A hopeless romantic._

_The idea of a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw relationship seemed sweet, filling a void between lost souls. A mere abundance of chaos but it would've worked._

_Indefinite._

_"Hey, do you see that star—" Eulalie's distinct pause was distributed by the tenderness of Ziva's lips. Moistened puffs of her bottom lip grazed with hers, stiff pecks shortened to a second. The ginger girl shook her head away, her eyes darted a pierce. "What are you doing?!"_

_She pushed her head to a slight angle, rejection bubbled the tension. "Oh my god. I'm—I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me."_

_"That's okay, it's just a mistake." Eulalie placed her hand to her shoulders. "I'm sure you didn't mean it—right?"_

_"Yes, absolutely."_

_"Good. I just can't have a friend who is into someone that is the same gender," she said, adding hatred._

_"Wait what? What do you mean?" Ziva's questions spoiled her attention._

_"I just mean... that I think fancying the same gender is... weird. Y'know?" Eulalie stated, her blinks battled against the high winds. "I don't want to associate myself with some dyk—"_

_The girl forced an interruption, slight harsh tones stamped out. "But, what does that have to do with anything?"_

_"Why are you so defensive? You said that kiss was an accident right?"_

_"Yes, but what you're saying is problematic. You can't just say that you don't want to be friends with someone who is gay," Ziva conversed, her eyes flickering within each side, shifting the trembled pupils._

_"You should probably stop being friends with Loony Lovegood. She influences her fucking bullshit on everyone, damaging the innocent minds with diseases."_

_Hatred. But at what cost?_

_"Wait what?!" Ziva stood her ground, supporting her body as her legs pushed herself from the stoned flooring. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"_

_The ginger placed her gentle touches against the girl's shoulders, siding her palms with easing strokes. "Abandon your friendship with her, otherwise it'll be too late."_

_The coarseness of blood had clogged the aching gateway of the heart, struggling to recover her wounds as she stepped back. "I guess it's too late then," Ziva shrugged, ignoring the situation as she forced herself to usher down the tower._

_Midnight falls, dusk turns to shadow the dawn. Grey captured the clouds and heaves a trick to gush out the waters. Rainfall brewed in the spiralling winds—it was now an isolated turn of events._  
  
  
  
━━━━━━━━━━  
  


She envied the pristine structures of Flora's family and judged to compare her family to the girl's. Her mother washed her coins with her scents, glamourised the ethics of her stability. She rarely watched over her children, but only showered in rich.

Ziva wanted the warming comfort of a family—and not just the company of her brother. She preferred the welcomed arms of Flora's mother and sister, it seemed perfect.

Ms Zabini flaunted her witching beauty to the ruling whispers of those who had deemed her beauty as exquisite with envious approaches. They appreciated her desires, however they need not to question her husband choices. _Yet_ , a mystery exploded within the ragged tips of bizarre stories, stories that surrounded deaths.

Coincidentally, her mother received unrestricted access to the money of those men she had dated and married. Ms Zabini had claimed that the man had killed himself on that fatal dusky night, accidentally summoned a coincidence with the heavy clinks of golden coins.

Beauty worshipped a praise. And more than anything else.

"Young and seventeen. Happy Birthday," Luna exalted, studying the cleared expressions of the girl. "Something wrong? Did I say something bad?"

"What? Oh—no, of course not," she assured. "I'm just not in the mood for birthday celebrations right now."

"I see. Well... we'll pretend that I never said anything." Luna pressed a wink to the rhythmic voices of her mouth. "I'm not sure if that wink was good."

"It was perfect, Loony." Ziva affirmed a smile, gushing rushes of heat surfaced her cheeks, and warmed her heart within the temperature. "People who mock you as Loony are just jealous that you are in a superior tier."

"I don't mind it."

_Lies. She did._

The library scents were contaminated with the dead parchments of olden, lone books, suffering by a starve of touches—never had to be caressed by gracious fingers. And whiffs of spring dust had bagged their marks within nostrils.

Her glances glorified the academia of the shelves, merely shifting between each row as she examined the books from a distance. Glued to her seat, she pushed her body forward and leaning to a close view of the books.

Luna sat to an adjacent, mesmerised in the creative realm of her mind, spotting a notice to each illustration of a book. Her fingers parted down the lettering characters of each page, stilling an interested facade. She looked at _peace_.

Luna was happy, and so was she.

"Hello, you two," Flora intervened. The girl placed the delicacy of her works against the oaken wood of the table. "Studying for the O.W.Ls? It'll be a long process to excel."

"That's true."

Ziva observed the exchanged interactions between Flora and Luna, desperate to engage with her sexuality crisis. She wasn't, truly wanting to be victimised as she had been with Eulalie—she didn't know if Flora would've reacted the same as the ginger girl. Or _worse._

A risk to confess, but she didn't.

Perhaps the same opportunity will come once more, and more after that.

"Excited for the apparition test?" Flora scoured brushes against the skin of her books. "I just know that I'll fail. Probably will accidentally end up chopping a limb if it goes wrong."

"This will probably be the only test that'll ever be so nerve wracking," she oscillated within her chair.

"Hello, ladies," Theodore conversed.

" _For fucks sake,_ Nott why are you here? Shouldn't you be following Malfoy around like his other gang members?" Ziva slipped her arms to a fitted cross, clutching her forearms to below her chest.

The heel of the chair had scraped against the stoned floors, echoing a piercing tone throughout the library as students held to their ears. "Sorry everyone!" he admitted. "Well if I'm being honest... I had no idea we even voted him as a leader? So I propose that-"

"No." Ziva's tone sharpened from the blunted response.

"What? You didn't even hear the rest of it."

"I don't need to."

"So you're like psychic then?" his torso eased forward, swallowing the emerging words from his throat. "Joking, of course."

Flora's eyes anticipated the reveals of his facial structure, examining the contents of his features with a brief smile. "You want something, don't you?"

Theo whipped his skull to appear to the girl's view, focusing the glances to her narrowed brows. "What do you mean? I don't want anything... perhaps a favour?..."

Pauses impeded the air, Luna and Flora flicked their eyes to the sheer pearls of his exposed teeth within his smile. His head angled to the slight intensity of her soften lour.

"What do you want, Nott? Again."

"Malfoy's been pretty up himself lately and annoying— so I was thinking of teaching him a lesson with some pranks? But, not too intense that he'll cut me from the group."

"Do we look like the Weasley twins?" Ziva asked.

"No. I mean yeah their pranks are wicked but, I was hoping that Flora could help me with this one?"

Theo's objective had piqued her attention to his favour, "why? And what's your prank idea?"

Ziva hadn't had an interest with his ideas, only the mere splintered attention to his bizarre rummages. He was the epitome of fucking bug that wouldn't leave her alone but in other words, he was the person to know everything about everyone. Quite eerie to discover.

"I'll see you three later." Her frame stood upright, collecting the collaborations of her works to the security of her arms. "Perhaps in the Great Hall tonight."

The gateways of her mind clogged the fainted mist of her blocked reminisce from engaging. Her legs pushed a saunter to travel within the golden halls of the castle. Holding in her feelings would've eventually ended her body to combust with the strong hesitated steps.

She extended her trail to pass the courtyards of concourse, rerouting a detour to the entrances of the Slytherin dungeons. Following her clanked footsteps to the steep narrows of the hilled corridors, she noticed the passive eyes of Eulalie.

The ginger girl giggled a line of breaths, seeping through the cracks of her mouth as she stared a prissy demeanour to the curly haired girl. Marking the flooring with her virgin leathers as she thudded an attitude against the silenced echoes of the halls.

War between the two gazes concluded the phobic tension, and shattered the remaining respect for each other. She knew, that night a year ago was the reason why their friendship had ended.

Eulalie was infested with hatred, and Ziva hadn't noticed until she broke from the crushing realism. Idiocy filtered through, embarrassed from the years she was friends with the girl.

Pansy wasn't the problem— Eulalie was.

She fancied Draco, and it was more than that. Evil intentions had illustrated a sign on her face. Not the good intentions.

" _Ophidia,"_ she chuntered.

The revolution of the walls had scattered to a opened transparency to reveal the same entrance to the Slytherin common room. Her fingers slid in place, twisting to grasp against the handle and opened the door.

The golden rays of the sky enticed students to spend time in the sun, leaving two people in the common room as she intruded the snogging session of Adrian Pucey and a random Gryffindor girl.

"Couldn't you do that somewhere else?" she interrupted, waving her sight to the corner of the room.

"Jesus! Why are you here?" he pulled back from the girl as she slipped her limbs in the opened ways of her uniform and rushed from the brisk chills of the common room. "Why are you in the Slytherin common room?"

"More important question, I thought you and Flora had a thing?"

"She's too much to handle, y'know?" he pressed his backside to recline against the comfort of the sofa. "It gets aggravating."

"Nope, don't know what you mean," she shrugged. Her body dragged next to him on the leathered seating. "What... do you mean?"

The older boy escaped a nodding sigh, "she's aggressive and stubborn. I offered to coach her on Quidditch but I now realise that it isn't a good idea. And I'm not supposed to say because of school policy, but she carries a set of knives— even in her..." he motioned to his chest, " _bra_."

"Okay? But how would you know that last bit unless... oh my god! You two have been shagging. You're really into kinky stuff—damn okay."

"Wait what? No!"

Ziva laid her back against the curved surface of the backrest, holding her crossed arms to a tight clutch. "Excuses, excuses, Pucey. But on a serious note, if you were a girl... wouldn't you carry some sort of protection? Oh wait, no you wouldn't know that."

"Use a wand then. Flora also influences things—like the one time when we were at her home for the holidays... probably around three years ago. And there was this car that her dad tried to enchant years ago but couldn't, so she fixed it and asked me to sit in the car as she drove it and I did." He paused, reminding a memory.

"Okay?"

"And she didn't know how to drive that type of car... manual I think? There was this big willow tree in the centre of the clearing—so uhh, she drove right into the tree willingly. The car combusted with an explosion and we got out of the car in time," he bevelled his head. "But, she kept staring at the wreck... and when she looked at me, she smiled?"

"Damn. Why did she do it?" she was rapt in the winding story that he dug from a loosely hinged memory.

"She said the car was a failure. Her dad tried to fix something and it didn't work," he glared the flooring.

"Daddy's girl. Isn't that a suicide attempt?"

"I don't think the intentions were to commit suicide, but rather making the car suffer. I-I don't know—she was fourteen." Adrian stuttered a shift in his position.

"That's dark." Ziva pressed her palms to the sofa, lifting a heave of her body as she stood up. "Right, well I'm going but if you really fancy Flora... then I'll go talk to her."

"Good luck, she doesn't listen to me anyway."  
  
  
  



End file.
